Things Aren't Always What They Seem
by katydidit
Summary: Three new chapters as of July 2006, which makes this COMPLETE! Thirteenyearold Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank’s fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn’t expected to see and realizes that things aren’t always what they s
1. 1

Author: Katydidit  
  
Email: NobodysFol2507@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! *demented laughter* Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. *blissful grin* Ahhh, if only.. *cough* Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. *g*  
  
Summary: A short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: I suck some major butt at angst and I freely admit it, so try not to throw the really rotten tomatoes at me, okay? *nervous laughter, slowly backs away*  
  
BTW: RIP Earl Hindman. Hidey ho, neighbour. *sniffle*  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem  
  
Thirteen-year-old Michael Guerin quietly climbed out the small window in the side of his trailer, careful not to wake the bum next door from his booze-induced slumber. He didn't know where he thought he was going, really. Max and Isabel were visiting relatives in Albuquerque for the weekend, and even though Max had promised to leave his window unlocked 'just in case', Michael didn't think he'd be able to stand the empty house. Somehow, it was worse than the cramped trailer he'd just escaped from. It only reminded him that, as much as the Evanses tried to make it seem otherwise, he wasn't a part of their family. Would never be. His eyes stung, and he cursed the tears that he knew were building up behind them. Men didn't cry. Men were strong; stone walls. He kicked viciously at a rock on the sidewalk, sending it flying into the distance, and looked up. He'd been walking for a while, too busy raging to notice where he was going. *Great job, dumbass,* he berated himself. *While you were busy whining, some alien hunter could have dragged you off to some lab.* Not that anyone would notice. The only thing that Hank would miss would be the monthly check. Max and Isabel might, but only until their perfect grandparents showed up to shower their perfect grandchildren with some more praise. He punched a tree trunk, noting with little satisfaction the splinters of bark that fell to the ground, and flung himself down to join them, burying his face in his knees.  
  
Presently, the little hairs on the back of his neck yanked themselves to attention. Someone was watching him. Warily, he raised his head and peered into the darkness.  
  
"Who's there?" he rasped. A slight figure stepped into the circle of light at the base of a streetlamp. Her glossy dark hair, normally so neat, was tangled, and her eyes were bloodshot and teary. He took no notice of them, too wrapped up in his own load of crap to be worried about hers.  
  
"What are you doing here, Perfect Parker?" he asked, making the nickname from the school hallways sound as bitter as he felt. She just studied him for a while. Eventually, he became self-conscious and leapt to his feet. "What are you looking at?" he asked threateningly. She dropped her eyes and shrugged uneasily, brushing a long strand of hair behind her ear. "Why are you out here? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She still didn't answer, and he sighed in disgust. If she wasn't going to talk, why the hell should he stand around and yap *to* her? He turned to leave, but the sheer misery emanating off of her made him stop and turn back to her. "Liz, what's wrong?"  
  
Her eyes raised to his, perhaps surprised at his easy use of her name. She swallowed hard and rubbed absently at her upper arm. Her first attempt at speech was little more than a croak, so she cleared her throat and tried again.  
  
"We got in a fight."  
  
This was news. Perfect Parker, everyone's best friend-in a fight?  
  
"Who?"  
  
"My-my parents and I."  
  
"No way. Elizabeth Parker and her *parents*, arguing? What, did they say you were spending too much time studying?" What did she know about arguing with 'parents', anyway? Not that Michael considered Hank his parent, mind you. Her eyes flashed with anger, but she dropped them almost immediately. What the hell, he figured. Maybe listening to what she thinks are *problems* will take my mind off of mine. "What about, then?"  
  
"I-dropped a plate."  
  
"Oh, how unforgivable," he said, sarcasm drenching his words.  
  
"Things aren't so easy right now, you know," she said, her voice louder, accusing. "In case you haven't noticed, business at the restaurant isn't exactly booming. My parents get frustrated just like anyone else, Guerin." She was still rubbing her arm.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So that was the last of Mom's good china."  
  
"What'd your parents do-hit you? Or worse-did they ground you from your advanced math textbook?" His question was sarcastic, but the sentiment was real. He *was* interested. How would *normal* parents punish their kid? Michael had a sneaking suspicion it *didn't* involve a strap or an empty beer bottle.  
  
She looked away, adopting the same shifty manner he put on whenever the social worker came around.  
  
"Perfect Parker's parents actually hit their precious baby?"  
  
"Just-my dad," she said, and then hurried on. "But it was completely my fault. I mean, I was such a klutz. And I don't even know what I was doing with the plate in the first place. I should have been up in my room, doing my homework and staying out of his way. He always gets like that when he's paying the bills." She trailed off, studying the concrete again.  
  
Michael didn't answer. He was seeing Liz Parker in a whole new light. She wasn't just some loser with nothing better to do than science homework on a Friday night-she was, in some weird way-like him. She may be human, but still..  
  
"What happened to your arm?" he asked, his voice filled with a new emotion- care. She looked up in deep surprise, then away again, and shrugged, rolling up her sleeve. There were four angry red marks, practically glowing in the dimness. Michael snorted ruefully and rolled up his own, putting it next to hers. Her eyes widened when she saw Hank's ugly handprint. Or maybe it was the scars from the broken glass that had gotten to her. She looked up, and into his eyes. He wanted to memorize that moment-the warmth spreading through his body from where their bare skin was touching, the way her eyes burned through his knowingly, everything..  
  
"We match," he said quietly. She blinked, and the moment was gone. He jerked away, rolling his sleeve back down. She looked down.  
  
"I-should get home. We've got that quiz next week. Dad'll-he'll be mad if I don't pass it." She cleared her throat again and brushed an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. "See you in school." She didn't even look at him again as she disappeared back into the night from which she had come, leaving him alone in the dark, trying to deal with the new knowledge he now possessed.  
  
So maybe things weren't always what they seemed. 


	2. 2

Things Aren't Always What They Seem La Seconde  
  
AN I meant for this to be a one-parter, but I'm bored. And I've got at least one scene brewing in this head of mine. So deal.  
  
Disclaimer: *arches eyebrows* Not mine. This isn't news.  
  
TAAWTS 2  
  
His alarm clock was going off. Michael groggily opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh sunlight pouring in through the curtain-less windows of the sardine tin he called 'home'. His hand shot out and turned the clock off. The last time he let it ring that long... He shuddered as his feet dragged over the dark stain on the carpet-one of many. It didn't really matter anyway, he realized as he stepped into the bathroom. Hank was still passed out on the couch, in exactly the same position that he'd been in the night before. Michael headed back into his room and snatched a pair of rumpled jeans off the floor. He hadn't worn them in a couple of days...they should be fine. As he yanked them on, though, he realized why they'd been flung into the corner—there was a large bloodstain on one of the knees. He swore and kicked them off, sending them to the floor in a rumpled heap. It didn't matter, anyway, he told himself as he pulled on another pair. It wasn't like anyone ever noticed what he was wearing. The only time anyone had ever said anything was that one time that chick with the blonde hair had made some stupid comment, back in sixth grade. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up the way he liked, and headed to the kitchen to scrounge for something to eat.  
  
All he found was a box of old saltines, Tabasco sauce, and beer. He grabbed the crackers and the hot sauce, sitting down at the table. 'Most important meal of the day,' he thought ruefully, shaking the sauce onto the crackers. About halfway through his makeshift breakfast, the bum on the couch groaned and stirred, then rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom. Michael could hear the old man retching, then the toilet flushed and out he came, swiping at his mouth with the back of one hand and scratching his ass with the other.  
  
"What are you still doing here, boy?" he demanded gruffly, cracking open a can of beer. Michael didn't answer; he'd learned long ago that the best thing to do was to ignore him.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in school? Answer me, boy!"  
  
"School hasn't started yet," he replied quietly, involuntarily shrinking away from the man towering above him.  
  
"Well get going."  
  
"I have half an hour."  
  
"I said git!" He swung his arm, and connected solidly with Michael's nose. He leapt to his feet and stumbled out of the trailer, trying to stem the flow of blood. He quickly arrived at the Evanses, where Max flung open the door at his knock, Isabel right behind him.  
  
"Michael, that's the second time this month you've given yourself a nosebleed," Isabel said, shaking her long blonde hair over one shoulder. "For such a tough guy, you bleed like a stuck pig."  
  
"Shut up, Blondie," he said, pinching his nose. "Max..."  
  
"Yeah. My room."  
  
The boys hurried up the stairs and into Max's bedroom, where Max healed him, then took a step back and surveyed his clothes.  
  
"You can't wear those today," he said. Michael glanced down. Dammit. There was blood all over the front of his shirt, and some good-sized spots on his pant legs. "Here. Borrow some of mine, and Mom'll wash those tonight." He pulled some clothes out of his closet and tossed them at him. "Aren't those the same jeans you wore all last week?"  
  
"Not all of us can afford twenty-four pairs of designer jeans, Maxwell," Michael replied, changing into Max's clothes. They fit a bit more snugly on him than they did on Max—Michael had more muscle—but they'd do.  
  
"Those were a gift from Nana," Max muttered. Michael scoffed.  
  
"Guys, we're going to miss the bus!" Isabel called up the stairs, her voice impatient. Michael thundered down, followed by Max.  
  
"What a tragedy it would be if you didn't get to sit by the rest of the hens, right, Blondie?" Michael asked, tugging fondly on Isabel's hair.  
  
"I told you not to call me that."  
  
"Bye, kids. Have a great day!" Diane Evans's voice followed them to the bus stop, where they made it just in time to board the old school bus. Isabel slid into a seat, inserting herself fluidly into her friends' conversation, while Michael and Max claimed an empty seat. They were silent as the bus headed to the next stop, where a familiar brunette and blonde climbed aboard, taking the only other empty seat-right behind Michael and Max.  
  
"Look at that, Liz. SpikeBoy is wearing Romeo's clothes. Do you think all of his finally disintegrated?"  
  
"Maria..." Liz said quietly. Michael spun around in the seat.  
  
"Shut up, Freak. At least I'm not always sniffing those stupid vials."  
  
"Yeah, well at least I—" Maria stood, clutching her little bag of aromatherapy vials protectively. Liz tugged on the back of her shirt.  
  
"Maria, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. Don't give him the satisfaction," she murmured soothingly. Michael looked at her. Her hair was once again perfectly brushed and shining in the morning sun. The dark vest she was wearing made her seem even paler than usual, the dark red of her shirt bringing out her lips.  
  
"Yeah, you would think that, Parker. Butt out."  
  
Her eyes raised to meet his, and the way they burned into his reminded him of the night before. Silently, he held her gaze for a moment, then turned back around and slumped in the seat. Max was still turned around, eyes fixed on Liz.  
  
"Evans, you're staring," Michael heard Maria say, and Liz laughed softly, but not unkindly. Max turned around, the tips of his ears red.  
  
The rest of the ride was uneventful.  
  
***  
  
By lunchtime, Michael's stomach was about to cave in, as he rummaged in his locker for whatever would pass for a lunch. Did he remember to bring those crackers?  
  
Of course not. He sighed and put his head in his locker, wondering if you could pass out from being this hungry.  
  
"What's wrong?" a soft voice asked from behind him. He jumped and turned to face Liz, whose chocolate eyes were sympathetic.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You forgot your lunch?"  
  
His shoulders slumped even more. "Yeah."  
  
A shadow of something passed over Liz's face, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills.  
  
"I don't want your money."  
  
"I'm not giving it to you."  
  
"Oh..." His stomach gave a half-hearted growl, as though it had realized that it wasn't getting anything, and had to register one final protest.  
  
"I'm lending it to you."  
  
"I know how that works. No thanks." Sure he was hungry, but he had to keep his dignity. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
"Seriously. I'm expecting it back. With one percent interest per every two weeks that you don't pay me back." She thrust it into his hand, then dug through her bag, coming up with a perfectly shaped, brilliantly red apple, then held it out to him. "And, here. I don't even like these. Mom always packs one the day after Dad—" She broke off. "Well, if you want it, its yours."  
  
Michael stared at the fruit in her hand for a second, then slowly reached out to take it. She smiled softly, then began to head away.  
  
"Thanks..." He said. She turned back and nodded.  
  
***  
  
"Where'd you get that?" Max asked as Michael flopped to the ground under a tree in the courtyard. "Thought Hank didn't give you lunch money."  
  
"He didn't. Liz lent me some money."  
  
"Liz Parker?" Max asked enviously. "Wow."  
  
"Don't say it like that, Maxwell. She was just being nice." He picked up the apple and looked at his half-reflection in the skin.  
  
"Were they selling apples? I didn't see any in the line."  
  
"No. She gave it to me too."  
  
"Wow. What'd you do to get into her favor like that?"  
  
"Nothing. That's just how she is. Don't worry. I'm pretty sure she likes you better than that meathead Valenti."  
  
"Shut up," Max said, stealing a glance towards Liz, who was sitting with the blonde and that computer geek. Michael, having successfully diverted Max's attention, was now free to enjoy his lunch. Soon, nothing was left but the apple, which he couldn't bring himself to eat. It would be like...profiting from Liz's dad hitting her. He dumped it and the tray into the garbage can, then looked up. She was watching him, and nodded slightly when she saw what he'd done with the apple. Then Maria spun around to see who she was looking at and made an ugly face at him. He responded with an even uglier one of his own and headed back to the tree. Kyle had headed over to Liz and Maria, and had his arm slung possessively around her shoulder. After a while, he glanced over and caught Max looking at her, and headed over. Liz followed, obviously expecting a scuffle.  
  
"Whatcha lookin' at, Evans?" Kyle said cockily. "Not, Liz, by any chance? 'Cause everyone *knows* we're going out."  
  
"No. I wasn't looking at her," Max mumbled.  
  
"Then who were you looking at? Alex? Does Maxie Boy have a crush on Alex Whitman?"  
  
"Kyle, quit it," Liz protested strongly, tugging on his arm. "He was probably looking at... Look—his sister's standing over there. He was watching to make sure she wasn't getting into trouble. Weren't you, Max?"  
  
Max mumbled a general affirmation.  
  
"I don't believe that. He was either looking at you or Alex. Which one was it, Evans? Were you looking at my girl or the geek?"  
  
"He's not a geek, and I'm not your girl, Kyle," Liz said, still tugging on his arm. "Come on."  
  
"Not until he tells me who he was looking at."  
  
Michael stepped in.  
  
"What's it to you?"  
  
"Look—the reject speaks!"  
  
"Kyle, leave them alone!"  
  
"Butt out, Liz. This doesn't concern you. What did the reject say?"  
  
"I said—" Michael began, clenching his fists. "I said, what's it to you?" He stepped forward threateningly. Liz resumed tugging on Kyle's arm.  
  
"Do you want to fight me, reject? Is that it?"  
  
"If I have to."  
  
"Kyle!" Liz tried one last time. "You do *not* need to get kicked out of school again!"  
  
"This is beyond that, Liz. Go back to Maria."  
  
"You're going to leave them alone, Kyle Valenti, or I'll—"  
  
"You'll what?" Kyle demanded, spinning so he was face to face with Liz. Fear flashed through her eyes, and Michael, feeling oddly protective, provoked him again.  
  
"What's wrong, Valenti? So insecure in yourself that you have to make sure no one looks at her? I can see why. I've often wondered what she's doing with a dickhead like you."  
  
Kyle spun around again, glaring at him. "What did you call me?"  
  
"Lordy, your hearing must be going. Must be getting hit in the head with a football all those times. I called you a dick-head. Basic English, I think."  
  
"I could kick your ass, Guerin."  
  
"But I'll bet you'd rather look at it, though, wouldn't you?"  
  
Kyle stepped forward, ready to punch him. Luckily, the principal hurried out just in time.  
  
"Boys! What's going on here? Mister Guerin, *another* fight? Your fosterfather isn't going to be happy to hear this."  
  
"It wasn't him, ma'm," Liz burst out. "It was Kyle. He started the whole thing."  
  
"Liz!" Kyle exclaimed.  
  
"Mister Valenti, come with me."  
  
"But I didn't do—She's lying!"  
  
"I've known Liz Parker since she was in diapers, young man. She does not lie. Come with me. You're going to make a call to your father."  
  
"But—"  
  
The principal led him away, leaving just Liz, Max, and Michael.  
  
"Why'd you lie?" Max mumbled.  
  
"I didn't. Kyle started it, didn't he?"  
  
"Yeah, but..."  
  
"And I didn't want you guys to get in trouble." She looked at Michael, her eyes telling him that by 'you guys' she meant him.  
  
"Oh. Thanks."  
  
"Are you afraid of him?" Michael blurted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just wondering. You can leave now, Parker."  
  
She dropped her eyes. "'Bye, Max." And she was gone, having returned to Maria and Alex.  
  
***  
  
That night, the Evanses invited Michael to go to dinner with them. He remembered the wide array of food in the trailer and accepted.  
  
It was the middle of the dinner rush, so the restaurant should have been packed, but was oddly quiet. Liz headed over to their table with five menus and launched into the chipper waitress act. Max was unable to order—he was busy looking at Liz, so Michael ordered two cherry cokes. She smiled, nodded, and disappeared. Her father intercepted her, and they engaged in what looked like a civil conversation. Max's father followed Michael's eyes, then turned back.  
  
"He's such a great dad," Phillip said, looking at the menu. "I don't know of any father in town who gets along with his daughter like those two. Sorry, Izzy. We have our spats, you know."  
  
Isabel laughed and nodded. "I know. You're right."  
  
Michael remained silent, remembering last night. Yeah, those two got along beautifully. Just fabulous. He slowly became aware of a dull burning in his hand. His powers. Isabel noticed and grabbed his hand, attempting to calm him down. It worked—the feeling faded back into the background once more, just as Liz returned with their drinks, and took their dinner orders. By the time they had gotten them and were finished, they were the last ones in the restaurant. Liz handed Phillip the bill.  
  
"It's dead tonight, isn't it?" he asked kindly.  
  
"Sure is. It's pretty weird, actually. A nice change, though. That'll be it for tonight?"  
  
"It should be."  
  
"Okay. Come on up and pay whenever you're ready." She headed back to the counter. Phillip dug out his wallet and followed.  
  
"Michael, honey, do you want us to drive you home?" Diane asked.  
  
"No. I can walk."  
  
"It's not safe, hon."  
  
"I'll be fine. I've got to pick up some stuff from the store, anyway. I'll just get it while I'm around here."  
  
"Okay..."  
  
Phillip returned and chucked a ten onto the table as a tip.  
  
"Daddy, that's a ten," Isabel pointed out.  
  
"I know. Don't you think she deserves a bit more as a tip?"  
  
"I'll bet Max does," she teased. Max nudged her with his elbow, his ears red.  
  
"You coming with us, Michael?"  
  
"No. I've gotta go grocery shopping."  
  
"Okay. See you later, son."  
  
As the four of them left, Michael heard Diane complaining about how children shouldn't have to do something or other. He rolled his eyes and waited for them to climb into the Jeep before he headed to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by Mr. Parker angrily yelling something. A few more crashes and he stormed out, stomping upstairs. Michael cautiously headed into the kitchen, where Liz was kneeling amongst shattered glass and scattered silverware. She was weeping softly—didn't notice him until he cleared his throat softly. Then she jumped to her feet, wiping hastily at her eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. Need help?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on." He grabbed a bus tray and began piling the silverware into it. She stood above him, trembling slightly, then knelt again and began to help. "I wouldn't do that," he said softly, gesturing to her knees. "You'll get all scraped up."  
  
"It wouldn't be the worst—" she began bitterly, but then immediately shut her mouth and rocked back onto her feet, brushing some glass dust off of her skin. He dumped the silverware into the sink of soapy water, then grabbed the broom and dustpan. She took the broom from him and began sweeping the glass into a neat pile. Michael held the dustpan, and could see that she was still shaking. The two sides of himself—the cynic and the one who just wanted to be loved began to wrestle.  
  
*What the hell are you doing feeling sorry for Perfect Parker? If there's anyone who deserves pity, its you.  
  
*What are you talking about? Look at her—she's a wreck.  
  
*So she fights with her parents. I'll bet she's never had a broken bottle in her shin. Like you have. Remember that?  
  
*Of course I remember. But look at her.  
  
*I'm looking. All I see is a goody two shoes in a stupid uniform, holding a broom and looking at you like you're a moron. She doesn't need your help. Get out of here.  
  
"You're not a moron," Liz mumbled softly, taking the dustpan and dumping it out.  
  
"What?" he leapt to his feet. Had she read his mind? That was impossible!  
  
"You said something about you being a moron. You're not."  
  
"Oh. Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Of course." She smiled. "I get by."  
  
What Michael did next surprised even himself. He stepped forward and roughly gathered Liz into his arms for a brotherly hug. She stiffened slightly, but didn't pull away or anything. Michael mentally smacked his forehead. *Please. Just don't say anything or look at me like I'm an idiot* He begged inwardly. She seemed to understand, and moved to put the broom away. She didn't seem to be uncomfortable or anything, so for that Michael sighed in relief.  
  
"So. See you tomorrow," he said gruffly, heading out the door.  
  
"Bye," she replied softly, her words somehow carrying through the diner to his ears. 


	3. 3

Author: Katydidit  
  
Email: NobodysFol2507@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence...that may change...*shrug*  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh*  
  
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though. Maybe in later chapter?  
  
A/N: *wipes eyes* You reviewers are soo nice! Muchas gracias, gente! Also, I *realize* that some of the song choices are maybe not exactly correct (as they probably hadn't come out when the kids were thirteen), but can you please bear with me? Oh, and something I've learned this morning: when eating high-fiber cereal because it's the only cereal in the house, *do not look at what you're eating except to check for bugs*. This cereal is nasty... lmao. At least it's bug-free.... Oh. And I can *not* remember Mr. Evans' name...I know Max's mom's is Diane, but...does anyone else remember?  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem  
Chapter Three  
  
The next morning, Michael was awakened, not by his alarm clock, but by Hank roaring in the next room. Stomach sinking, he trudged out to see what was going on.  
  
"What are you talking about! I don't owe no one no goddamn money! You tell whatshisface that if he wants to talk to me, he should talk to me himself, not send some wimpy little twig to do it! Yes I *did* just call you a—I bet you will!" Hank slammed the receiver down and spun around to glare at Michael. "Whattaya want?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Then beat it!" He started forward menacingly, and Michael skittered back to his room. A few minutes later, dressed in relatively clean clothes, he slunk out of the trailer, this time remembering to grab the crackers.  
  
***  
  
"Michael, you're earlier than usual..." Max said, when he opened the door.  
  
"Hank was being a dick..."  
  
"What else is new? Did you already have breakfast?"  
  
Michael unconsciously brushed the cracker crumbs off of his shirt. "Yeah."  
  
"Well, we're just starting breakfast, if you're still hungry?"  
  
"No. I'm fine."  
  
"Then you can watch tv or something..."  
  
Michael thought about this. Sit by himself in the living room while the Evanses gathered around the kitchen table, talking and laughing...being a family? No thanks.  
  
"You know what? I think I'm just going to walk to school."  
  
Max narrowed his eyes. "What?"  
  
"Seriously. I...need the exercise."  
  
"Umm...okay... See you later, then... I guess."  
  
Michael turned and strode back down the walk, heading for the school. Maxwell could be so dense sometimes. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, watching his feet. He was paying so little attention that he ran into someone, knocking them to the ground. This shook him from his thoughts, and he looked at the person on the ground. It was, of course, Liz.  
  
"Oops," he said, holding out his hand to help her up. She hesitated for a second, then took it, brushing herself off. "You okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. Where are you going?"  
  
"The bar."  
  
She studied him for a second, a small smile on her lips. "So he does have a sense of humor."  
  
"Why are you walking to school?"  
  
She shrugged. "Felt like it."  
  
"Fine. Me too."  
  
"Fine." She started walking. "So. We have that test today."  
  
"What test?"  
  
"The one in science."  
  
He shrugged, and she was silent for a while.  
  
"Where's Max? I mean, aren't you two usually together?"  
  
"He's having breakfast with his family. Didn't want to intrude. Where's Kyle?"  
  
"I dunno. Probably at home. He got suspended."  
  
"What a shame. He's such a great guy."  
  
She scoffed. "Yeah, I know."  
  
"Then why are you with him?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Are you afraid of him?"  
  
She looked up quickly. "What kind of question is that?"  
  
"The kind you answer."  
  
She looked away and began walking quickly. Michael quickened his pace to match hers, staying close at her side. "Are you? 'Cause you're acting like you are."  
  
She didn't answer, so he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She winced and jerked away, rubbing her shoulder.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
She shook her head. "It wasn't you..."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Am I afraid of him? Not...really. He's a big coward. He's just...really big."  
  
"Does he ever pull crap on you?"  
  
"No. I said he was a coward."  
  
"Fine, fine..."  
  
"Why are you worried about it, anyway?"  
  
"Because people like you shouldn't have to be afraid of anything more than you have to."  
  
She nodded silently and began walking. Michael noticed that she was still rubbing her shoulder absently.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"What?" She looked confused.  
  
"To your arm."  
  
"Oh. Who do you think?"  
  
"Let's see."  
  
She looked away and tugged at the collar of her shirt, exposing her shoulder. It was dark blue, with a purple handprint in the center. He traced it carefully, but she still winced and pulled away. They continued in silence until they reached the school.  
  
"So what's the apple look like?"  
  
She scoffed and pulled the most perfect apple Michael had ever seen from her bag. They stared at it for a minute, and then Liz's features twisted and she heaved it away from her. It landed with a satisfying splat a distance away.  
  
"Are you going to be okay?"  
  
"I always am. I have to." Her voice was bitter. "See you later, Michael." She headed into the school.  
  
***  
  
The last class of the day was science-home of the infamous quiz. Liz was first in the room, of course, and, by some odd fluke, Michael was second. He slouched in his seat (which was-big shock-next to Liz). The teacher must have hoped that Liz's studious-ness would rub off on him. In any case, it must have been a funny picture-the 'reject' in torn denim, slouching next to the bookworm. He glanced over at Liz. She was flipping frantically through her notes one last time. He leaned over.  
  
"Liz."  
  
She looked up reluctantly. "What?"  
  
"Why are you worried? You always do good on tests. You've got this one in the bag."  
  
She shrugged and returned to flipping. Once everyone had entered the room, the teacher began passing out the tests, and it began.  
  
***  
  
Finally, every test paper but one had been turned in-and that one was, of course-Liz's. The teacher dismissed the rest of the class, and stood in front of Liz's desk, hands on hips. Michael went as slowly as he possibly could.  
  
"Your test, Elizabeth."  
  
"I'm not-done..."  
  
"Everyone else finished theirs in one class period-even Mister Guerin over there. Your test, Miss Parker."  
  
Liz reluctantly handed her the packet, and stood, gathering her books. She moved quickly, but Michael caught the tears in her eyes.  
  
Outside the classroom, Max and Isabel were at his locker, waiting impatiently.  
  
"Come *on*, Michael. We're going to miss the bus!" Isabel whined.  
  
"I'm walking, Blondie."  
  
"I am too," Max piped up. Isabel looked at them in disbelief. "Then I'll be alone."  
  
"You won't be alone. You have the hens."  
  
"Don't call them that!" Isabel exclaimed, stomping her foot. Michael and Max began making clucking noises. She growled in frustration and stomped away. Max laughed and leaned on the locker next to Michael's.  
  
"Why are you walking, Michael?"  
  
"Feel like it. You?"  
  
"Feel like it."  
  
"Whatever." He put his books away and turned to go. Liz was still at her locker, moving slower than usual. He headed over, as did Max.  
  
"What's wrong, Liz?" Max asked, forgetting to be shy in his concern.  
  
"Nothing. Why?"  
  
"You're crying."  
  
"No, I'm not..."  
  
Max reached out and gently touched a teartrail. "What's this, then?"  
  
"I hit my eye with the corner of my folder."  
  
"Now you sound like Michael."  
  
"Michael doesn't cry," Liz sniffled, smiling.  
  
Alex came running up to them. "Liz! How'd it go?"  
  
Liz stood up, sliding her backpack onto her shoulder and closing her locker, then turned around and shook her head, looking at her feet. Alex sighed and pulled her to him for a hug.  
  
"I'll be fine, Alex. I have a while before she passes the tests back."  
  
"Still... Want me to walk home with you?"  
  
"You have auditions for your band."  
  
"I can reschedule."  
  
"No. You've been waiting all year for this-you said this was the only time you could get the auditorium."  
  
"You're more important."  
  
Liz laughed and hugged him. "No. I'll be fine."  
  
"Call me later, then."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Now go find a triangle player."  
  
"Drummer, Liz."  
  
She laughed. "The triangle's better."  
  
"Stupid girl," he teased, kissing her cheek before dashing off.  
  
"Are you walking home?" Max asked shyly. Liz nodded.  
  
"We'll come with you, then," Michael said quickly, pushing them towards the stairwell.  
  
***  
  
They were mostly quiet on the walk home-Max, being the semi-loser he was, seemed to just be enjoying walking next to Liz. Michael heard the argument even before they were standing in front of the Crashdown. Liz locked eyes with him worriedly, then paused before entering. Mrs. Parker came into view, pushing the door open and smiling at the three of them.  
  
"Hi, boys. How was school?"  
  
"Fine," they mumbled. She nodded and handed a sheet of paper to Liz.  
  
"Baby, the Crashdown is out of a few things, and the next shipment is tomorrow. Can you run out and get them, please?"  
  
Liz nodded, looking past her mother into the dimness of the restaurant. Footsteps approached them, and her mother pulled her close for a hug, and then pushed her backwards. Liz stumbled, but Max kept her from falling.  
  
"Baby, just go. Now." A hint of urgency entered her otherwise calm voice.  
  
Liz nodded. "Love you, Mom."  
  
"I know, Baby. Love you too."  
  
Mrs. Parker returned to the interior of the restaurant, and Liz began walking quickly. Michael again adjusted his pace easily, but it took Max a few steps.  
  
"So you're going to the store?" Max asked. Liz nodded. "I have to go home... Isabel has a dance recital." He sounded disappointed. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"'Bye Max," Liz replied, smiling at him. He nodded and headed home. Liz and Michael continued walking.  
  
"So what do you guys need?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Then what-?"  
  
"It's a code. It means to get lost for a few hours."  
  
"Does your dad...hit your mom?"  
  
"Not that I know of. Mostly they just argue."  
  
"Don't you ever worry-?"  
  
Liz stopped in her tracks. "Of course I worry, Michael. I worry every goddamn night that one day he'll lose his temper and kill her, so it'd just be us. I worry every stupid minute of every fucking day!"  
  
Michael just stared at her in shock. Liz Parker knew *swear words*? She seemed to realize what she said, and clasped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He laughed and continued walking. They turned into the same park as the other night, but this time Liz headed for the swings. He stood there for a second, and then sat on the swing next to her. She began pumping, and was soon going twice as high as he was. As he watched, she leaned back so she was practically laying down.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
She sat up slowly, dragging her feet in the dirt. "Try it. It feels like you're flying."  
  
He leaned back, watching the ground fly up at him, then the sky. It was kind of like flying...in a way. He sat up and looked over at Liz, who was laying down again, the very end of her hair trailing in the dirt. She looked up at his face and began laughing.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You have dirt-on your-face..." she giggled.  
  
"What's so funny about that?" He asked, swiping at his face. She looked at him and laughed harder.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"You've just-made it worse!" She stood up and wiped her finger across his cheek, right under his eye.  
  
"Is it gone now, or what?" Michael asked, almost sorry that her gentle touch was gone.  
  
"It's gone. You're such a boy."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What's wrong with being a boy?"  
  
"Nothing at all." She grinned, and he swiped at her. She jumped up and took a few steps away from him. He watched as she began twirling, face upturned.  
  
"The hell are you doing?"  
  
"Didn't you ever do this when you were little? Spin and spin until you fell?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You missed out, Guerin."  
  
He was silent, watching as she spun, then fell to the ground, laughing. He joined her, looking up at the sky. They were quiet for a while, and when Michael looked over at Liz, tears were running down her face. He sat up immediately.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"N-nothing." She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I haven't done that since I was seven."  
  
Michael was silent, mildly uncomfortable at the situation. When had he decided that it was his job to hang out with Perfect Parker? She seemed to pick up on his thoughts-how did she *do* that-and wiped her eyes.  
  
"I'm fine-It's just...things were better then. If you want to go home, you can go."  
  
Great. He *did* want to get out of there, but that would mean just leaving her alone.  
  
"I'll be fine. I'd prefer to be alone, anyway..."  
  
Whew. "If you're sure..."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"Okay." He stood up, picking a long strand of grass out of her hair and tossing it in her lap. "See you later."  
  
She nodded, picking the grass apart.  
  
*** Michael kicked at a rock on the way back to the trailer park. Those two sides of him were wrestling again.  
  
God, Guerin. You're such a wuss. You can't even stick around to comfort a crying girl?  
  
Since when is it my job to look out for Perfect Parker? Since never. Therefore I had no reason to stick around. She's a loser, anyway.  
  
You know that's not true, dumbass. And it became your job that night when you looked at her like that.  
  
How the hell did I look at her?  
  
Like you cared.  
  
How would I know what that looks like?  
  
Just quit, okay? Stop playing the part of the pathetic little outcast with no family. There are tons of people who care about you. Max. Isabel. Their parents. Liz...  
  
Whoa whoa whoa. Where'd this come from?  
  
You saw how she looked at you. You guys made some kind of connection that night. You can't turn your back on that.  
  
The hell are you talking about? Connection? We swapped stories and compared bruises.  
  
No answer. Which only left him to think about what he meant. What kind of connection could he have made? Surely not like the ones he and Max and Izzy made when they were little, playing with their powers. What else was there? He shook his head and kicked at another rock. Then it occurred to him that 1) he had just listened to an argument in his head that he hadn't really participated in, and 2) he was now thinking about what was said in that argument. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Stupid Parker...  
  
***  
  
The next day was mostly uneventful, until lunchtime. Michael was again digging through his locker for the makeshift lunch he'd grabbed just before Hank had chased him out of the house. He thought he was the only one in the hallway, until he heard a stack of books fall and a familiar voice swear quietly. He spun around. Sure enough, Liz was standing amongst her textbooks, glaring down at them as though they had done it purposely. But there was something off about her...the way she was holding herself... Michael couldn't put his finger on it, but she looked... different. He went over to her and knelt, grabbing the science textbook.  
  
"Here..." He said. Not looking him in the eye, she took it, sliding it into the bottom of the locker. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," she replied quietly, closing her locker and standing up. "Have a good lunch."  
  
"Liz, wait." He grabbed her upper arm, and she jerked away. "Tell me. What's wrong?"  
  
"I did tell you. I'm fine."  
  
Of course, Alex chose this moment to run up to Liz and throw his arms around her.  
  
"You didn't call me last night, Miss Parker. I was scared to death all night-what's wrong?" Liz's face was contorted in a grimace of pain. Alex immediately let her go, running his hands through her hair. "I'm sorry..."  
  
"It's fine. You just...hug really tightly..." she gave a weak smile and put her arm around him.  
  
"Come on. Maria's probably replaced my Fritos with a wheatgrass smoothie or something."  
  
Liz made a face and they left. Michael sighed and grabbed the tattered brown bag in his locker and slammed the door, heading down to find Max.  
  
***  
  
After the last class had ended and the crowd in the hallway had thinned, there were still three students tinkering around by their lockers.  
  
"Michael, I thought teenage girls were supposed to worry about exercising all the time-not guys," Max said, leaning, once more, on the locker next to Michael's.  
  
"Bite me, Maxwell. So I don't want to ride the bus. Sue me."  
  
"Calm down there, Tiger. I was kidding." He at the locker right across the hall from Michael's. "So why do you think Liz is always walking?"  
  
"Teenage girls and all that," Michael said, slamming his locker. He noticed how Liz's shoulder blades seemed to tense at the noise, so he headed over. "Why're you stalling, Parker?" Liz jumped once more and looked at him.  
  
"I am not stalling."  
  
"You've just refolded that homework assignment five times."  
  
Liz glanced down at the paper in her hands and shoved it in her pocket. "Your point? Hi, Max." She smiled warmly at Max, setting his ears aflame. She laughed quietly, reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. Her sleeve pulled up, revealing a trail of cuts. Michael grabbed her arm, gently yanking the sleeve further up and forgetting about Max. Almost the whole length of her arm was covered in angry red scratches.  
  
"Must have been a hell of an apple," Michael challenged. Liz jerked her arm away angrily, slamming her locker shut and heading down the hall. "What's wrong, Parker?"  
  
She spun around and glared at him. "Michael, stop! You don't care! I can see it in your eyes! Give it the hell up, allright? I get it. Now leave me alone." She turned and stormed out. He, of course followed her outside, with Max trailing them.  
  
"What the hell do you mean, I don't care?"  
  
"It's fine. Just leave me alone."  
  
He chased her halfway down the street before he realized the absurdity of the whole thing and reached out with his mind and tripped her. He then easily caught up with her and held out his hand. She ignored it and stood up on her own. "What do you want?"  
  
"What'd you do with the apple?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"Did you throw it out?"  
  
"Michael, there was no fucking apple, okay?"  
  
"What?" Max looked a bit taken aback by the fact that Liz had sworn, but Michael was more shocked by her words.  
  
"There wasn't one."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"She's gone, Michael. My mom."  
  
"Where'd she go?"  
  
"I got home yesterday, and she'd taken off... she left a note-she's gone to Tulsa."  
  
*That's* what was different about Liz's posture-she looked defeated, betrayed. Michael was silent.  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
"Wh-of course not."  
  
"Whatever." Liz sighed. "I'm going now."  
  
"Liz, your mom is gone?"  
  
Welcome to the conversation, Maxie Boy, Michael thought. Liz looked up, shocked. She must have forgotten all about him.  
  
"Um...yeah." She smiled.  
  
"Why? And what's wrong with your arm?"  
  
"I scratched myself last night in my sleep. I do that a lot." She smiled winningly at Max. She was so much better at lying than Michael was... Max glanced at her hand-and Michael realized that her nails were chewed down just as she did. She smiled and balled her hand into a fist, hiding her fingers.  
  
"You don't have nails."  
  
Liz shrugged, obviously unsure how to answer that one. Max studied her face.  
  
"Liz, do you think you can help me with the math homework? I could go over your house."  
  
Liz looked cornered. "Uh-I'm...not supposed to have friends over on school nights."  
  
"What if it was for homework, and then I left? Would your dad let you then?"  
  
She winced. "No. He wouldn't."  
  
Max looked semi-triumphant, and Michael stepped in. "Maxwell, what if she went over to your house?"  
  
Liz nodded slightly. "I could do that..."  
  
"Okay. Then you could stay for dinner and my dad and I could drive you home on our way to drop Michael off."  
  
She was cornered again. "No. I can walk home. Your house isn't far from the Crashdown."  
  
"We'll figure that out later... Just, come on." He started towards his house, and Liz slowly followed.  
  
***  
  
"Momma, Dad? I'm home!" Max yelled as they walked in the door. Mrs. Evans came in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishcloth.  
  
"Hey, Max. How was school?"  
  
"The usual," Max replied, making a face. His mother laughed, then looked at Michael and Liz.  
  
"Michael, honey, can you take off your shoes, please? How was school?"  
  
Michael kicked off his boots and mumbled something.  
  
"How lovely. Liz, how were your classes?"  
  
Liz turned red. "Fine, thank you."  
  
"Are you two staying for dinner?"  
  
"Yes, Momma. They are. Is that okay?"  
  
"That's perfect!" A buzzer rang in the kitchen. "Oh! Gotta go. Nice to have you here, Liz." She smiled at her and dashed out, and Max dumped his backpack on the floor, plopping down at the coffee table and unfolding the sheet of homework they had to do. Liz sat on the other side of the table and did the same. Michael flung himself onto the couch and turned the television on, which was the only noise except the occasional tutelage from one bookworm to the other on how to solve this problem more quickly, or how to find the answer to that one. After a while, Mrs. Evans came into the living room.  
  
"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt you, but come eat." She smiled. For some reason, Liz paled.  
  
"Omigosh!" She exclaimed quietly.  
  
"What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Evans asked, ushering the boys into the kitchen.  
  
"I didn't call my dad. Mrs. Evans, could I please use your phone? It'd just be a minute."  
  
"Of course. It's right there. We'll wait for you, okay?"  
  
"Yes. Thank you very much."  
  
Mrs. Evans went into the kitchen and sat at the table, lightly smacking her husband's hand when he reached for the spaghetti noodles.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're waiting for out guest."  
  
Mr. Evans looked confused. "Who... Michael's here already."  
  
"Liz Parker is over."  
  
Mr. Evans grinned at Max. "Way to go, Max," he teased, elbowing him in the side.  
  
"That girl is so polite," Max's mother gushed. "You three could stand to take lessons from her."  
  
Max made a face at her, and Michael snorted.  
  
"Where's Izzy?"  
  
"She's at a friend's."  
  
"Which one?" Michael asked. Mr. Evans made a face.  
  
"Don't they all look the same to you?"  
  
"Hey!" Diane said, glaring at him. He laughed and held his hands out in surrender.  
  
"Sorry, honey, but its true..." He laughed, and looked up as Liz quietly entered the kitchen, chewing her lip.  
  
"Everything okay, honey?" Max's mom asked her, gesturing towards the seat next to her husband.  
  
"Yes, ma'm."  
  
"That's good. Okay, everyone, say grace." Everyone took the hand of the person next to them, Liz's small hand swallowed up by Mr. Evans'. They said the customary prayer (Michael never really listened), and began eating. Liz only took a very small portion, and only picked at that, looking distracted and worried.  
  
"Something wrong, Liz?" Max's mother asked, looking concerned.  
  
"I don't blame you," Mr. Evans said, leaning over. "I'm afraid of this stuff too," He laughed and ducked a flying napkin. Liz looked up.  
  
"Oh no, Ma'm. This is...great. You're a good cook. I'm just not very hungry..."  
  
"Are you sure? Because if you are, you'd better eat it now, or, knowing these guys, it'll disappear off your plate before you get the chance."  
  
"No, I'm very sure." Liz smiled at her. "But may I help you with the dishes?"  
  
Diane looked shocked, then turned to her husband and son. "Do you hear that?" She turned back to Liz. "I'm going to adopt you, okay, honey?"  
  
Liz flushed and returned her eyes to her plate.  
  
When the dinner was over and the table was cleared, Liz and Mrs. Evans were standing at the sink, up to their elbows in soapy water. Max had brought his half-finished homework in to the kitchen table, and was mostly watching Liz, who was scrubbing at the dishes, looking very serious. Diane looked over her shoulder and winked and Michael, then splashed a little water at Liz, who flinched, then looked up and smiled softly.  
  
"You look so serious," Mrs. Evans said, laughing. Liz shrugged and returned to the dishes. "Don't you boys want to go in there and watch the game with Mr. Evans?"  
  
They shook their heads. Max would obviously rather watch Liz, and the way Mr. Evans got all worked up about a bad play reminded Michael of the way Hank got sometimes-loud Not violent. Mr. Evans would never hurt a fly.  
  
"Okay..." She said, handing Liz a dishtowel. "Here, how about I wash and you dry? It'll go faster." Liz nodded. She was in the middle of drying a plate, when obviously Mr. Evans' team didn't score.  
  
"Useless bum! What are you doing on this team? You *had* that one, and you let them knock it out!"  
  
Liz jumped and the plate slid out of her hands. She immediately dropped to her knees to pick up the shards. "I'm so so so so sorry! I didn't-it was an accident! I-"  
  
Mrs. Evans reached behind the refrigerator to get the broom. "It's fine, honey. Oh, don't pick that up with your hands-you'll cut yourself. I've got a broom-let me sweep."  
  
Liz glanced up, face pale and eyes dark with fear, then nodded and stood, holding the large pieces of glass. Mr. Evans came in from the living room and put his hands on Liz's shoulders. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, but neither of the parents noticed.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Just a casualty," Mrs. Evans said with a smile as she emptied the dustpan into the trash. "I keep telling you that you shouldn't get so worked up about those stupid games. You startled Liz."  
  
He looked down at the girl under his hands. "Is this true?" he asked, in his mock-stern voice. Liz nodded slowly. "I don't believe you. I think my wife dropped the plate and is trying to frame you." Liz now shook her head vigorously.  
  
"No, sir. It was me. I dropped it," she replied fearfully.  
  
"Oh, okay." He laughed and returned to the living room. Mrs. Evans took the shards from Liz and threw them away, then looked at Liz, whose eyes were full of tears.  
  
"Baby, it's fine," she laughed, gathering her into her arms for a hug. "It was just a plate. Do you know how many Max and Izzy-not to mention Michael- have dropped? I don't even have a matching set anymore. Don't worry about it!"  
  
"You aren't going to tell my father?"  
  
"Why would I do that?"  
  
Liz shrugged and returned to the sink, picking up a fork to dry it. Diane looked over at Max and Michael for a second, then lightly squeezed Liz's shoulder before finishing the dishes. Liz barely winced.  
  
***  
  
Later that night, the phone rang, and Mr. Evans answered it.  
  
"Is there an Elizabeth in the house?" he teased, handing Liz the phone. She listened for a little while, then answered quietly, so no one in the room could hear, then hung up.  
  
"My dad says thank you very much for letting me come over today."  
  
"You tell him he's very welcome. And so are you-whenever you want to come over."  
  
Liz flushed and picked at her jeans. "Thank you. I should probably go now, though..."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"My dad will need help with closing up the restaurant..."  
  
"Okay. I'll drive you."  
  
"That's okay. I can walk."  
  
"Nonsense. It's dark out. You're not walking home alone in this."  
  
"I'll be fine. I've done it before."  
  
"So why tempt fate? I'm driving you." Mr. Evans crossed his arms. Liz looked frightened, until he crossed his eyes at her, and then she smiled a little. "Michael, you ready, son?"  
  
Michael pretended to grumble about how he'd just gotten comfortable, but grinned and put his shoes on, poking Liz gently in the side.  
  
***  
  
After they'd dropped Liz off and Mr. Evans had waved to her father, they headed towards the trailer park.  
  
"She's a nice girl," Mr. Evans said. "A bit highly-strung, though."  
  
"Thanks to her dad," Michael mumbled.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, her parents taught her all those manners."  
  
"Right." He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Like Hank taught you yours."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. Is she always that scared?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, when she dropped that plate, she looked like she thought we were going to beat her up or something."  
  
Michael kept his eyes averted. "Probably from working in the Crashdown, you know? Not supposed to drop things there."  
  
"Yeah, but people don't usually hit you when you do."  
  
"Well, son, we're here. Looks like your fosterfather is at work again."  
  
'Work', my ass, Michael thought wryly. He's at the bar. The check probably came today. "Yeah. Gotta put food on the table, you know?"  
  
"I do. See you later, Michael."  
  
"Bye, Mr. Evans."  
  
He noticed that Mr. Evans didn't leave until he'd opened the door and made his way in. And what was he talking about-Hank teaching him manners like Liz's? Unless he knew. Oh, shit. If he knew, and he told someone, they'd take Michael away-probably to another home in another state. What would he do then, without Max or Iz? It'd be good if Mr. Evans told someone about Liz's father, though. She didn't deserve to get treated like that... Something deep in Michael told him that neither did he, but he knew he could take it. And anyway, his 'dad' wasn't even his real father. Liz's was, which made it all the worse. 


	4. 4

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat  
  
Email: NobodysFool2507@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! *demented laughter* Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. *blissful grin* Ahhh, if only.. *cough* Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. *g*  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: Figured since I hadn't updated in a while, I should try for two in the same week. Let's see if this works. And Phillip! I thought so! Thanks, diamondkitten (at PolarAttraction). Also, you guys shouldn't worry *too* much about anything *really* bad happening to Liz, since she's my most favoritest character. ...Yeah. Lol. Also, expect this story to maybe get a bit more Polar from this chapter on.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem  
Chapter Four  
  
Michael groaned as the sun snuck through his curtains and knocked on his eyelids. At least today was Saturday. He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow in hopes of sleeping for another few hours. Damn sun...  
  
The phone rang, and Michael heard Hank swearing as he rose to answer it. Michael sat straight up as he realized that he was thundering towards his room. Hank slammed the door open.  
  
"Phone," he growled. "And keep it down." He stomped away. Michael was puzzled as to why Hank hadn't hit him or anything, but then he heard a woman's voice in the next room and it all became clear. And gross. Shuddering, Michael trudged into the kitchen to pick up the phone.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Michael, we're going to the Crashdown for breakfast, and my parents want to know if you want to come."  
  
"Gee, I had my day all planned out..."  
  
"If you don't want to come, don't come."  
  
Michael made a face and lowered his voice. "I'll come. Hank's got a chick over." He heard Max shudder loudly.  
  
"Ew ew ew!"  
  
"Exactly. I'll be over in five minutes."  
  
Without even changing clothes (they didn't stink), Michael dashed out of the trailer.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Michael. Were you running, son? We'd have waited for you."  
  
Michael didn't answer-just ducked under Mr. Evans' arm, panting. Max, Isabel, and their mother joined the two men, and out they went.  
  
"It looks like it's still closed," Isabel said, looking skeptically at the Crashdown's empty interior.  
  
"Then why's music playing?" Max asked, looking at her like she was stupid. "Let's just go inside." He pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. Piano-rock was playing, accompanied by a few male singers and one familiar female voice.  
  
"Piece by piece, and bit by bit  
  
I'll break this down for you, real slow  
  
But I can't whisper all of this  
  
And I can't seem to let this go  
  
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes  
  
I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes  
  
I can tell its your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear  
  
and fire's a beautiful sound  
  
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear  
  
and ashes just fall to the ground  
  
Yeah we're only ashes  
  
Part and part and inch by inch  
  
You'll have your mile when it's through  
  
Incinerate what's left of this  
  
and torch the part of me that's you  
  
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes  
  
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear  
  
and fire's a beautiful sound  
  
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear  
  
and ashes just fall to the ground  
  
Yeah we're only ashes  
  
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear  
  
and fire's a beautiful sound  
  
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear  
  
and ashes just fall to the ground  
  
Yeah we're only ashes." She spun into view, belting out the last line. The song ended, and she looked up, turning a bright scarlet when she saw the five of them standing there. She smiled sheepishly, rubbing her eyebrow. "Um... hi. Lemme get your menus."  
  
They sat down at a booth, and Liz returned.  
  
"Quite a set of pipes you've got there," Mr. Evans said. Liz turned red again and handed them their menus.  
  
"Thanks... Could you not tell my dad I was doing that? ...I'm not supposed to play music that loudly in the restaurant."  
  
"Isn't he here?"  
  
"No. He's gone to Santa Fe for five days."  
  
Which would account for Liz's burst of enthusiasm. Phillip laughed and patted Liz's hand. "Your secret's safe with me."  
  
"Thank you very much. Coffee?"  
  
"Two decafs, please. Diane, you want any?"  
  
"Har, har."  
  
Liz left to get the coffee.  
  
"She seems happy today," Mr. Evans said. His wife nodded.  
  
"I wonder why she isn't like that more often."  
  
"Is it just me, or does she always look scared?" Isabel asked, flipping through the menu.  
  
"What on earth would she be scared of?" Mrs. Evans asked, laughing. "This is Roswell, New Mexico-the biggest thing you have to worry about is tourists looking for alien skulls!"  
  
She shrugged, and Michael knew she was a bit rattled by her mother's words. He grabbed her hand under the table.  
  
Liz returned, carefully setting the hot mugs on the table. "Half a cream and half an Equal each, just like you like it. Do you know what you'll have?"  
  
They ordered, and just as Liz was walking away, Diane spoke up.  
  
"Liz, honey, where's your mom? I have those books she wanted."  
  
Liz stiffened and turned, and she and Michael locked eyes. Then she relaxed back into her disguise. "She's in Santa Fe with Dad."  
  
"Oh... she didn't say anything about a business trip the last time I spoke with her."  
  
"It was kind of sudden." Liz made an odd face, as though it hurt her to lie.  
  
"Liz, could you do me a favor and give these to her when she gets back? If I take them back home with me, I'll end up never giving them to her."  
  
Liz's eyes inexplicably filled with tears and she took the bag Mrs. Evans was holding out. "Sure thing." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Your order should be out in a few." Liz turned to leave again.  
  
"Hey, wait."  
  
Liz turned around again. "Yes?"  
  
"Who's looking after you while your parents are gone?"  
  
"Well, Jose's here in the daytime..."  
  
"And at night?"  
  
She shrugged. "I'm old enough."  
  
"No. You're hardly thirteen years old-you're not staying alone for almost a week. Call your parents and ask them to let you stay with us."  
  
"Mrs. Evans, thanks a lot, but I can really take care of myself..."  
  
"I believe you sweetheart, but...could you just humor me? I'm an old woman. I worry."  
  
"If you're sure...?" She looked at Mr. Evans, who looked at Isabel, who looked at Max, who nodded vigorously.  
  
"It's fine with all of us. Call your dad."  
  
Liz nodded and left. Michael heard her on the phone, quietly speaking with her father. After a while, she returned to the table.  
  
"Mr. Evans, my dad wants to talk to you..."  
  
"Of course he does!" He laughed and slid out of the booth.  
  
"I can't believe they'd just leave you here alone like that!" Diane said, shaking her head. Liz didn't know how to answer that, apparently, so she nodded and headed back to the kitchen, while Mr. Evans returned to the table, looking back at her strangely.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing. She's staying with us..."  
  
"Then, why do you look like that?"  
  
"Geoff said Nancy isn't with him."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"He said she left for Tulsa two days ago."  
  
"Then why'd she lie?"  
  
He shrugged. Max and Michael shared a look, as Liz returned with their breakfast.  
  
"It's all settled, honey. You're staying with us."  
  
Liz nodded, keeping her eyes down.  
  
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Evans asked.  
  
"Nothing. Will there be anything else?"  
  
"This should do it."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Michael quickly finished his (*gag*) Crash Alien Eggs (scrambled eggs), UFO toast (basically, toast with a UFO design on the front), and rocket fuel (orange juice), and went over to the counter, where Liz was reading. He pulled himself up so he was straddling the counter, watching her read.  
  
"That's disgusting, Michael," Liz said, not looking up.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You've got your dirty combat boots all over the counter."  
  
"I do not. Look."  
  
She glanced up, then back at her book. "Fine. You've got your butt all over the counter."  
  
"That can't be helped."  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Hey, why'd you lie to the Evanses about your mom?"  
  
"Don't want their pity."  
  
"I know the feeling... But they found out."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Your dad."  
  
"Figures. Are they mad?"  
  
"Confused."  
  
"Lovely."  
  
"What are you going to tell them?"  
  
"That my dad hits me and my mom got fed up and ran away."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Do I look like an idiot? I'll find something to tell them..."  
  
"So you're going to lie to my parents," said a voice from behind them. Liz jerked her head up, and Michael looked. Max was standing there, arms crossed. He sat down.  
  
"How much'd you just hear, Maxwell?"  
  
"Just the part about how Liz is going to lie to my parents."  
  
"Then you don't know what we're talking about."  
  
"So tell me."  
  
Michael glanced at Liz, who sighed and closed her book.  
  
"You can't tell *anyone*, Max," Liz warned. Max nodded. "Good. See, sometimes running the Crashdown can get really stressful. You know- especially in the off-season when there aren't that many tourists. So my dad gets really cranky at about this time. And I, being me, tend to annoy him a lot."  
  
"Bull, Liz. You're not annoying," Michael said. "Stop making excuses for him. Maxwell, her dad hits her."  
  
Max was in shock, looking at Liz pityingly. She moaned and stepped back. "Don't look at me like that," she begged. Max looked away.  
  
"Sorry. You mean, he *hits* hits you?"  
  
Liz nodded, getting a rag and rubbing at the counter.  
  
"I have to tell my parents."  
  
"Don't." Liz said quietly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Max, if you consider yourself my friend, please don't tell."  
  
Aha. Interesting. Using the friend card with the kid who practically worships you.  
  
"Liz...I do. But what if he hurts you really bad one day?"  
  
"He won't."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"He's my father... Can we talk about something else?"  
  
Max nodded, looking upset. "What are you reading?"  
  
"Jane Eyre."  
  
"Interesting."  
  
Liz rolled her eyes and smiled.  
  
"Max, Michael, are you staying here?" Mr. Evans asked, handing Liz the money for breakfast. She quickly worked the cash register, handing him his change with a smile.  
  
"I am, if that's all right with Liz?" Max asked hopefully. Liz nodded.  
  
"I am too, then." Michael said. "Someone's gotta supervise."  
  
Liz punched him in the arm, and Max just turned red. Michael pretended to swipe at Liz, but she jumped away.  
  
"Okay. Have fun, you guys." He left.  
  
"Why don't you sing more?" Max asked. Liz turned red and looked away.  
  
"I do...just not in public."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I just don't." She shrugged.  
  
"Fine then."  
  
"Fine." She grinned, and Maria pushed through the door.  
  
"Liz, I hope your rotten father is happy. Making a poor innocent girl get up at eleven on a Saturday morning. Jerky bum..." she continued complaining as she made her way into the locker room to change into her uniform. Liz rolled her eyes and waited for Maria to come out.  
  
"Good morning, Sunshine," she said, putting her arm on Maria's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What's SpikeBoy doing here?"  
  
"What's it look like, Freak?"  
  
"Looks like you're getting your butt cooties all over the counter. Off. Now."  
  
"Better do it, Michael. She'll beat you up," Max said. Michael rolled his eyes and hopped off.  
  
"I suppose you want me to clear that table, huh, Liz?" Maria asked.  
  
"Oh. Oops. No. I'll get it."  
  
"That's fine. I got it. It's the Evanses', right?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
Maria headed over to clear their table.  
  
"That's nice of her," Max said.  
  
"Not really," Liz replied, snorting. "Your dad always leaves a big tip."  
  
"So, Liz," Maria asked from across the restaurant. "How long will your dad be gone?"  
  
"Not long enough," Liz muttered, then raised her voice. "Five days."  
  
"Party at the Parker's," Maria said, dancing with the tray to the kitchen. "Wanna stay at my house?"  
  
"Thanks, but I'm already staying with the Evanses."  
  
"You're—how?"  
  
"His parents got her first. Tough luck, freak," Michael said, heading to the radio to find a good station. After a while of searching, he found one playing Metallica.  
  
"Ugh. Turn it off," Maria groaned, sliding up onto the counter.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Then I will."  
  
"Nope."  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Hey, how come you're allowed to put your butt cooties on the counter but I'm not?" Michael challenged.  
  
"Because I work here."  
  
He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the favor.  
  
"Honestly guys, let's be as immature as we can," Liz muttered wryly.  
  
"Liz, you can't be mature with this loser over here. It's, like he doesn't have a serious gene in his body."  
  
"Then you two would be a perfect match."  
  
"Ew!" Maria exclaimed, jumping off the counter. "Ew ew, ew ew ew!"  
  
"No they wouldn't," Max said.  
  
"Thank you, Romeo!" Maria said, glancing at Michael and taking a step away.  
  
"I mean, can you imagine what their kids would be like? Four-year-olds their entire lives."  
  
"True," Liz agreed. Maria shuddered loudly.  
  
"Just shut up you guys! This is disgusting! Like I would ever have kids with SpikeBoy! That's about as probably as you and Michael kissing!"  
  
"Probable, Maria."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
This was too good to pass up. "You wouldn't have kids with me, Maria?" Michael asked, hanging his head and going behind the counter to stand next to Liz. "That hurts, it really does."  
  
Liz laughed and stroked his back. "There, now. Look what you've done. You've hurt his feelings."  
  
Michael lifted his head and gave Liz a wicked little grin, which she returned. This wasn't lost on Max, who gasped. Before he really knew what he was doing, Michael had pulled Liz closer to him and tilted her head up, then he'd pressed his lips against hers. It was like an electric current had run through her and into him-just like something in one of Isabel's stupid romance books. Well...maybe in her romance novels, there wasn't a high- pitched screeching going on in the background...that sort of thing didn't really add to the atmosphere. He slowly pulled back, surreptitiously sliding an arm around Liz's back when he felt her teeter a little. He looked down her-her eyes were wide, and she was laughing. But not an 'omigod-this-guy-cannot-kiss' laugh, it was an 'omigod-I-cannot-believe- this-guy-just-kisssed-me', nervous-type laugh. Max's eyes were equally wide, and as he and Liz locked gazes, he started laughing too, which, of course, made Michael laugh a little. Not too much-he had a reputation to keep up, after all.  
  
"Liz Parker, I cannot believe you just kissed SpikeBoy 'Jerkface' Guerin! Are you crazy? You have to get a rabies shot now!" Maria screeched, her face pale white.  
  
"That's only if I'd bitten her, Freak," Michael said. But she was still flipping out.  
  
"I don't even know who you are anymore! I can't look at you! This is disgusting! Ugh! Ew! Ew! Ew! What's wrong with you?!"  
  
"Maria-Maria!" Liz exclaimed  
  
"What?"  
  
"Methinks the lady doth protesteth too much."  
  
"Yeah, well, me thinks you doth be mentally ill!"  
  
Liz rolled her eyes, and looked up as a young couple entered, taking them their menus.  
  
"I have to go dig my eyes out with something now!" Maria exclaimed, heading into the kitchen.  
  
"Use the family's spoons, and leave the restaurant's alone," Liz said over her shoulder, standing at the couple's table to take their drink orders.  
  
"Elizabeth Claudia Parker, do not encourage that girl," Jose said, pushing Maria out of the kitchen and handing her an ice cream scooper. Maria made a face and set it down, approaching Michael and poking him in the chest.  
  
"And you, you freak! What'd you go and kiss my best friend for?! What, do you think you're some kind of casa de never or something?"  
  
"Casanova, Maria," Liz corrected, returning to the counter and filling two clean glasses with soda.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Calm down, Freak," Michael said. "You'll have a heart attack. It's not like I kissed *you*."  
  
"You might as well have! Liz and I are practically the same person!"  
  
"Maria, how do you know I didn't kiss him back? That means, essentially, you kissed him too."  
  
"Let's stop sharing now," Max moaned, putting his head on the counter. Maria looked sick.  
  
"Liz, I don't want to be best friends anymore, okay? Let's just be really, really, really good friends who tell each other everything but are two completely separate people, okay?"  
  
"I can live with that."  
  
"Good. I'm going to go...get some ice cream now, okay?" Maria picked up the ice cream scooper.  
  
"Maria, it's not even lunchtime yet."  
  
"After watching that, Liz, I think I deserve it." She headed into the kitchen, and, after a small 'discussion' with Jose, Maria returned, eating a small bowl of ice cream triumphantly. Jose stuck his head out.  
  
"You guys, just so you know. I'm rigging up a booby trap in here, so if a particular Goldilocks comes in again, Mr. Parker will have to find another waitress."  
  
"Don't call me Goldilocks, Jose," Maria chirped good-naturedly.  
  
Max still had his head on the counter when Liz came back and handed Jose the order sheet. She laughed and patted his head. "We're not going to do it again... It's safe to look."  
  
He raised his head and looked at her, then at Michael, then shook his head and laughed again.  
  
"You two are so weird."  
  
"But you like 'em," Maria piped in.  
  
"Excuse you?" Michael asked. She realized what she'd said.  
  
"Oh. Not like that... I mean, you're his friend, so he must like you somehow... and he likes Liz, so he likes both of you."  
  
The three of them were silent, staring steadily at Maria. She got uncomfortable and stood. "Jose, unrig your booby trap...they're scaring me."  
  
"Sorry, Goldilocks."  
  
"Jerk. Guys, don't look at me like that. You know what I meant."  
  
They started laughing.  
  
The rest of the day was uneventful (well...as uneventful as a day with Maria DeLuca can possibly be), and just after closing time, Phillip came in.  
  
"You three ready?"  
  
They nodded, and on the way out, Liz froze.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'll be right back." She dashed up the stairs and returned a minute later with her toothbrush. Michael rolled his eyes and held the door open for them. Liz, who was the last one out, locked the door before she climbed into the car next to Michael.  
  
"How was it today?"  
  
"Dead. Again." Liz answered. He laughed.  
  
"Tourists are thinning out. Business'll pick up after a while."  
  
Yeah. Tell that to her dad, apparently. Liz glanced worriedly over at him, as though she'd read his mind. That was so creepy. He made a face at her, and she laughed.  
  
"What are you two doing back there?" Mr. Evans said mock-sternly, looking at them in the rearview mirror. Liz paled and looked out the window. Michael and Phillip locked eyes for a second, until Mr. Evans returned his eyes to the road. The car ride was silent-none of them were the kind of person who felt the need to talk just to fill the silence-and they soon arrived at the Evanses house.  
  
"Find a place to put that-" Mr. Evans nodded at Liz's toothbrush and grinned. "And wash up for dinner."  
  
"You can use the guest bathroom," Max said, pulling Liz through the hallway. "That's what Michael uses when he stays over." He took her toothbrush and plopped it in the cup next to the one Michael used, then smiled at Liz. She smiled back, and Max pulled her back through the hallway into the kitchen.  
  
"She's here!" Max announced in the doorway, stepping aside to present Liz, who was looking absolutely mortified.  
  
"God, Max. Calm down," Isabel said, rolling her eyes at Liz.  
  
"Don't just stand there, Liz!" Mrs. Evans said, pulling out a chair. "Sit down! Glad to have you here."  
  
Liz smiled uncomfortably, and Michael took a seat between her and Isabel. Once Diane had gotten everything on the table, she took her seat and held out her hands, signaling everyone else to do the same. He took Liz's hand, catching her eyes and making a mock-kissy face. She laughed silently and closed her eyes, squeezing his hand in admonition. The prayer finished, and everyone let go, passing each dish around the table.  
  
After everyone had finished, Mrs. Evans stood to get the dishes. Liz immediately stood to help. Diane looked surprised, but didn't say a word.  
  
"No game tonight," Phillip said, smiling. Michael saw Liz tense, and Mrs. Evans put an arm around her, laughing.  
  
"He's kidding, honey."  
  
"Let's go claim the TV," Michael whispered to Max, who nodded. "We'll be in the living room, Liz."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They went into the living room and sprawled out on various pieces of furniture.  
  
"Hey Max?" Isabel asked, her voice low.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you know why Liz lied to Momma and Dad?"  
  
Max and Michael shared a Look.  
  
"You do. Why?"  
  
"I can't tell you," Max said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I promised."  
  
"Promised who?"  
  
"Liz."  
  
Isabel looked hurt. "Oh. I'm gonna go to my room."  
  
"Izzy, no-"  
  
"It's okay, Max. I understand."  
  
"No, you don't." He sighed. "Come back."  
  
"Maxwell, what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm gonna tell her."  
  
"You can't!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You promised Liz."  
  
"This is my sister. Liz'll understand."  
  
Michael didn't answer. Liz probably would, but that didn't make it right.  
  
"So, why'd she lie?" Isabel asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.  
  
"You can't tell anyone-not even Momma or Dad."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
"Promise."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Liz's mom left them. She went to Oklahoma."  
  
Isabel looked shocked "Why?"  
  
"Because...I don't know exactly why, but it has something to do with the fact that her dad...he hits her."  
  
"Mr. Parker hits Liz?"  
  
"Yeah. Do not tell a soul."  
  
"Someone should-what if he hurts her really bad?"  
  
"That 's what I said. But she made me swear."  
  
"Yeah, and look what happened," came a new, hurt, voice from the doorway. Max leapt up.  
  
"Liz! I'm sorry!"  
  
She was silent.  
  
"Liz, it's Isabel. My sister. I had to tell her."  
  
Liz nodded, still silent, and went to sit in the chair furthest from them, pulling her knees up to her chest.  
  
"Liz, is it true?" Isabel asked quietly. Liz didn't answer, so Michael went over to kneel by her.  
  
"Hey," he murmured. She looked at him, eyes teary. "It's okay. Isabel won't tell anyone."  
  
"Too many people know," Liz mumbled fearfully. Michael rubbed her knee.  
  
"No-just us three. We're not going to tell. I'm certainly not. Remember? We match?"  
  
Liz glanced at his arm and nodded, sniffling, then looked over at the other two, who were watching worriedly.  
  
"Don't blame him, Liz," Isabel said. "I made him."  
  
Liz smiled and wiped her eyes. "It's okay."  
  
"So...how long has he been doing...that?" Isabel asked.  
  
Liz did the math in her head. "Um. Eight years, on and off," she answered quietly. That was longer than he'd been living with Hank, Michael realized with a start.  
  
"And no one's ever found out?"  
  
Liz shook her head.  
  
"Okay, guys!" Boomed a voice from the doorway. "Who wants to play trivial pursuit? Women vs. Men!"  
  
"Ha ha!" Isabel exclaimed. "We're gonna beat you guys!  
  
"Only because you guys have Liz," Michael replied.  
  
"But you guys have Max, so it's even."  
  
Max turned red and helped his father set up the board, while Mrs. Evans looked at Michael and Liz. Michael realized that he was still kneeling next to her.  
  
"Liz, honey, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Why are you sitting like that?"  
  
Liz looked down and her knees and slowly lowered her legs to the ground, looking back at Mrs. Evans as if to prove something.  
  
"Come over here, silly," she said. "We have to work on our strategy if we're going to beat these men."  
  
Liz hesitated, eyes dancing. "That shouldn't be too hard," she said softly, smiling tentatively. Michael threw a pillow at her, which she ducked, grinning wider.  
  
"Did I just hear you *insult* my gender, young lady?" Mr. Evans asked, pretending to glare at her. Liz obviously knew he was kidding, but she still looked a bit scared as she nodded. "You know that for that, we have to beat you guys?" Liz's eyes widened a fraction. "In the game." She relaxed, and smiled. Max caught Michael's eyes, looking pleased that Liz was teasing them a little.  
  
Despite all his big talk, the women beat the pants off the men, and, after Isabel's victory dance (which left Michael and Max on the floor, clutching their stomachs in laughter), the parents left the room, leaving the kids alone to talk.  
  
"Liz, I have a question..." Isabel began hesitantly.  
  
"So ask it." Liz said, though it was likely she already knew the question.  
  
"Why don't you want anyone to know? About your dad?"  
  
Liz shrugged. "I...because he-I just don't."  
  
"Well, what if he hurts you really bad one day?"  
  
"He won't."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Because...he just won't. I stay out of his way, most of the time. And if it ever comes down to that, I'm a fast runner." She smiled grimly.  
  
Isabel looked unconvinced. "But what happened to your arm?"  
  
Liz looked confused, until Michael reached over and rolled up her sleeve.  
  
"I saw it at dinner. Just so you know, I think Momma saw it too."  
  
"That's what that look was for," Liz said quietly. Michael held her arm in his lap, inspecting it.  
  
"You didn't do this yourself, did you?"  
  
She glared at him. "Michael, do I honestly look like I want to—" He knew she was going to say something like 'feel more pain'. "—cut myself?" She finished lamely.  
  
"Then what happened?" Isabel asked. Michael had one idea-and the picture of Liz's father-at least three times her size-holding her down while he cut her made him sick. She pulled her arm away, reading his mind again.  
  
"He...I was washing dishes."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"There were a bunch of dishes in the bottom of the sink, but on top of them- kind of floating around in the water or something-were the silverware-you know...knives."  
  
"Why didn't you take them out?" Max asked quietly.  
  
"He told me I had to wash the dishes first..." Liz said, inspecting her palm. "I'd forgotten that the person who usually does it had the day off, so I had just kept piling the dishes in the sink... It was my fault, really. Before bed, he came and got me and told me to wash the dishes."  
  
"How is that your fault?"  
  
"I didn't look at the schedule. I should have known that Marco wasn't there."  
  
"Liz, you don't even have to work there-you're thirteen. You shouldn't have known," Michael said angrily. "Why do you always do that?"  
  
"Do what?" She asked.  
  
"You always blame yourself. You don't *make* him hit you."  
  
She fidgeted. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Someone might hear."  
  
"Liz," Max began. "Maybe someone *needs* to hear."  
  
She looked up sharply. "What?"  
  
"If you don't do something, he'll get worse and worse, and you'll end up in the hospital. Or-" He trailed off, unable to finish. Liz took his hand.  
  
"That's not going to happen," she said, smiling. "Trust me."  
  
"You don't know that!" Max exclaimed, leaping up. She remained seated calmly.  
  
"I do."  
  
"How?!"  
  
"Max, would you just cut it out? You don't know my father. He's not going to do anything like that. And like I said, *even* if he does, I'll be fine. Now calm down."  
  
He glared at her for a few seconds, then stalked off to his room. Liz looked after him worriedly. Phillip returned.  
  
"You guys ready for bed? Max and Isabel have church. You want to come, Liz? Michael?"  
  
"I have to open the restaurant. Dad said-"  
  
"Right. Of course. Michael?"  
  
"I think I'll help her..."  
  
Isabel pouted. "You're going to make us sit through that whole thing by ourselves?"  
  
Michael smirked. "I plan on it, yes."  
  
Phillip lightly tapped his daughter's head. "Watch it, young lady. Your mother will hear."  
  
Diane came in. "Your mother will hear what?"  
  
"Nothing," Isabel said quickly, getting to her feet.  
  
"Fine." Mrs. Evans narrowed her eyes. "Oh! Liz, honey, you'll need blankets- and a sheet."  
  
"I'll get 'em," Isabel said. But before she could move, Max's door opened, and a few seconds later, he re-entered the room with a soft blanket and a sheet, which he handed to his mother, ignoring Liz. She watched him leave again, eyes dark.  
  
"He's probably just tired, dear," Diane said. "Get up so I can put this stuff on the couch."  
  
"That's all right. I can do it," Liz said quickly.  
  
"Nonsense. You're a guest here. Up-up-up." She smiled at Liz, who obeyed. When she'd finished transforming the couch, she turned back to Liz. "Are those your pajamas?" she asked, confused.  
  
"No."  
  
"Didn't you bring any?"  
  
"No, ma'm."  
  
"Silly... Well, bring some clothes tomorrow, okay?"  
  
Liz nodded, yawning.  
  
"Well, goodnight, girls. Michael." Diane gathered Isabel into her arms for a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then, maybe on impulse, Liz. Was it just Michael, or did Diane hold on longer to Liz. And were those tears in her eyes before she hurried out of the room? He and Liz shared a glance, then looked up at Mr. Evans.  
  
"She gets weird at night," he explained. "Goodnight Liz. Goodnight, Michael."  
  
"Goodnight, John-Boy," Isabel said in a southern accent as she left the room. "'Night Momma. 'Night Grandpa. 'Night, Maryellen."  
  
The three of them watched her leave, with some very odd looks on their faces. Mr. Evans blinked. "Okay...so it's hereditary in the female string of the Evanses." He winked and left.  
  
"See you tomorrow," Michael said. Should he hug her now, or what?  
  
"Yep."  
  
They stood there awkwardly for a while, and for a split second, Michael flashed back to the scene in the restaurant. Could he do that again? He wondered what she'd do. Liz bit her lower lip. Was she maybe thinking the same thing? She took a step forward and hesitantly put her arms around his neck in a hug. His arms slid up around her waist, tightening in a bear hug. Liz laughed and pulled away.  
  
"Night, Michael." He nodded and headed to Max's room. Max was sitting in his bed, flipping through a science magazine. Without looking at him, Michael dragged the sleeping bag out of the closet.  
  
"I can't believe she's being so stupid," Max said, putting his magazine aside.  
  
"Max, you don't get it. She doesn't want your help."  
  
"She needs something."  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"Yeah, you would say that."  
  
"Excuse you?"  
  
"Misery loves company and all that."  
  
Michael was shocked. And pissed. "Explain, please?"  
  
"You just want her to stay with her father because then you're not the only one. You don't want someone to save her because then who would you have to talk to?"  
  
"Max, are you high?"  
  
"No. And unlike you, I want to help her. I feel sorry for her."  
  
"She doesn't want your pity. "  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"She's told me." He thought for a second. "You're not going to tell anyone?"  
  
Max sighed. "No. I promised her I wouldn't. I just really wish I hadn't, so I could."  
  
"You do realize that that barely made sense?"  
  
"I'm tired. Leave me alone."  
  
Michael rolled his eyes and flipped the lights off.  
  
"But...what if I could help her without telling anyone. Like I help you."  
  
Michael sat bolt upright. "No. No. No. You are *not* telling her. You are *not* healing her. Ever. Never ever. We do not need anyone else knowing about that."  
  
Max didn't answer. Michael sighed and lay down. He'd have to convince him that the whole idea was stupid tomorrow. Because tomorrow...Michael wouldn't be so tired... The last thing he thought before he'd slipped off to sleep was how Liz had felt pressed against him this morning, in the restaurant.  
  
***  
  
"Hey! Lazybutts! Get up!"  
  
Michael heard someone yank the covers off of Max's bed, followed by Max groaning. Then he felt someone tugging on his sleeping bag. He groaned and tugged back, turning over. He heard a quiet screech, and felt that person fall over him, landing just an inch away from sitting on him, with her legs swung over his side. He opened an eye, to see Liz glaring at him.  
  
"Good morning," he said sweetly. She narrowed her eyes. "You wanna get off me so I can get up?"  
  
She chewed her lip, seemingly in thought. "No." She stretched out on the floor. So of course, he reached out to grab her ribs. She curled up, giggling. "Okay! I will! Just let me go!" she laughed, trying to push his hand away. He didn't budge, and Max joined him on Liz's other side. "No fair!" she gasped, laughing.  
  
"What's no fair is you yanking the covers off when I was having a perfectly good dream," Max said, poking her exactly the way Michael was. They'd done this on Isabel thousands of times. They finally released her, and Michael tousled her hair. She stood, glaring, which made Max laugh.  
  
"Good morning, Liz!" he chirped, grinning. She muttered something and headed out the door.  
  
***  
  
Later, after the Evanses had dropped Liz and Michael off at the restaurant and Liz had opened up, the two of them sat on the counter, swinging their legs and watching the empty street.  
  
"So..." Michael said. "This is fun."  
  
"It's because today's Sunday. People are at church. In a few hours, we should be crowded with people in suits and dresses, carrying Bibles.."  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
"It is."  
  
They were quiet for a while, then Liz spoke up again. "So. How long have you known Max?"  
  
"Practically our whole lives."  
  
"Oh yeah. You were found on the same road."  
  
"But at different times."  
  
"Oh. Do you remember your birth parents at all?"  
  
"No."  
  
Liz nodded, looking at her hands. "Do you ever wonder what they were like?"  
  
"I figure it doesn't do me any good-if they're alive, they're not coming back for me, so why bother?"  
  
"That's...lonely."  
  
Michael shrugged. "You get used to it."  
  
The phone rang, and Liz leapt up to answer it. "Hello, this is the Crashdown Café, Liz speaking. How may I help you?" She listened for a moment, then turned around and sort of hunched over, lowering her voice. "Hi, Father. Yes. Well...no. There is no one here right now. I know. It is because of church, I would assume. Yes sir. I will. See you Thursday." She hung up and returned to the counter.  
  
"That was your dad?"  
  
She nodded. The conversation was nothing like what he'd overheard between Isabel or Max and their parents. Liz hadn't even told him she loved him.  
  
"Liz, has your dad ever said he loved you?"  
  
She was silent, looking at the far wall. "He must have, when I was little."  
  
"But not lately?"  
  
She shook her head. "Why?"  
  
"Just wondering."  
  
"Well, has Hank ever told *you* he loved you?"  
  
"Are you high?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
No more was said, and the after-church crowd came and went, leading them into twilight. Liz was leaning in the window, watching the empty street. After a while, her quiet voice broke the silence.  
  
"If the Crashdown loses much more money, we have to move in with my dad's brother," she said pensively.  
  
"Where does he live?"  
  
"Nevada."  
  
"Oh." He went to stand opposite her in the windowsill.  
  
"I don't want to leave here," she said, her voice almost breaking.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I like Roswell. Everyone I love is here. Maria...Alex..." Why was he disappointed that she hadn't mentioned him? It wasn't like they were best friends... but still... Liz studied his face for a minute, then looked away.  
  
"Wouldn't your uncle kind of keep your dad from..."  
  
"I doubt it. My aunt...she... He's not real great to her either."  
  
Geez. What, was domestic abuse hereditary? Liz sighed and sat down at a table.  
  
"I'm just...really tired of this, Michael."  
  
"What part?"  
  
"All of it. My dad, my mom...the secrets...everything. Sometimes I just want to go tell-everybody."  
  
"You should. Tell, I mean."  
  
She scoffed. "Yeah. But it's complicated."  
  
"You keep saying that."  
  
"Because it is. I mean, he's my father. Aren't you supposed to honor your parents?"  
  
"Only if you believe in fairy tales."  
  
She scoffed again. "It's not just that. You see stuff like that-telling you to love your parents-everywhere."  
  
"And do you?"  
  
"Do I what?"  
  
"Love your parents? Honestly."  
  
She was silent. "I want to, Michael. I really, really want to." She thought for a while. "But how can I love a woman who just cut and ran-without even thinking about me? I mean, what am I going to do when he gets home, and everything settles down, and the Crashdown keeps going under? Mom could usually keep him from... And once he'd gone to sleep, she'd come into my room and tell me about how one night we'd pack up and leave for somewhere far away, so he wouldn't find us, and we could start over." She trailed off, sounding very small in the big room. "But she's already starting over."  
  
He didn't know what to say-there was nothing that could make her feel better-so he reached out and took her hand. She looked at it for a second, the corners of her mouth tugging upward slightly. Then the phone rang. Michael looked at her expectantly, but she made no move to answer it.  
  
"Dad said he wouldn't call again until Thursday, and the Crashdown is-" she looked at her watch. "Closed, technically, so I'm supposed to let the machine get it.  
  
Sure enough, Mr. Parker's perky voice answered, saying how he was sorry the restaurant was closed, but if you'd like to leave your name, number, and a message, someone would get back to you just as soon as it opened again, and the caller began to leave the message. At the first syllable, Michael heard Liz's sharp intake of breath.  
  
"Hi Lizzie. It's Mommy." A pause, probably where Nancy expected Liz to pick up the phone. Michael looked at Liz, who was studying the table without making a move towards the telephone. "Liz, I know you're home. He doesn't let you leave the house on school nights. Pick up the phone, baby." Liz still didn't move, so the woman sighed and went on. "Okay. I know you're mad at me. And you have every right to be. I was a cruddy mom, and then I left, with no warning." She sighed again. "And I know you think that he'll get worse, but if you just stay out of his way, you should be fine. Just-be more careful, baby. You know how he gets when you drop something. So, before you hate me, can you let me explain? I have a reason, Lizzie."  
  
"What are you doing, Nancy? The longer we wait, the less likely we'll get in. You know how exclusive this club is." It was a male's voice, slightly muffled but completely audible.  
  
"I'm coming, Rob. Just, let me finish this."  
  
"Okay... But hurry."  
  
"Liz, it's not what you think. I promise, I have a good reason." She paused again, and Liz stood, heading over to the phone. "I just couldn't-" her voice cut off as Liz picked up the receiver and slowly replaced it in the cradle, the message ending in a dial tone. She stood there, her head down, hand on the phone. Michael walked over to her and slid his arms around her, trying to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sniffling into his shoulder for what seemed like a long time, and then pulled away, brushing at his collar.  
  
"I got you all wet," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No big. It'll dry. Are you going to be okay?"  
  
She nodded. "I should probably go get my stuff before Mr. Evans gets here."  
  
"I'll be down here."  
  
She nodded and ascended the stairs to the apartment. Almost immediately afterwards, the Evanses' Jeep pulled up, and Mr. Evans headed inside.  
  
"Hey, son. Where's Liz?"  
  
"Packing."  
  
"Ah. Why's your shirt wet?"  
  
Aw, crap. Michael tugged at his collar so he could see it. It wasn't that wet-but leave it to Max's father to catch something like that. He shrugged, and Liz returned, her backpack on her shoulders and a small overnight bag in hand.  
  
"Have you been crying, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked. This was uncanny. She looked cornered for a second, then shook her head.  
  
"I think Jose was chopping onions today and when I was cleaning the kitchen, I got some of it in my eyes. It really hurts." She smiled and rubbed her eyes. God, was she a good liar. But not good enough, apparently. Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes, but let it go.  
  
"You ready?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What about you, Michael? Ready to go home?"  
  
He shrugged, and they left. 


	5. 5

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat (I've got more aka's than...*sigh* Someone. It's 1 a.m...I'm not feeling real witty right now...)  
  
Email: NobodysFool2507@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! *demented laughter* Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. *blissful grin* Ahhh, if only.. *cough* Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. *g*  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: Depending on how satisfied with this chapter I am come tomorrow, I'll post it. It'll probably be shorter than I'd have liked, but it should hold you guys until I can do a chp 6. lol. Umm...I'll try to clarify some things that had someone over at PolarAttraction confused... I'm kind of embarrassed that I haven't brought this into the plotline. Bad Kat! Bad Kat! Lmao. Okay. The longer the an, the shorter the fic, so I'll just have to deprive you of my witty repartee and get on with the show. *grin* I know, I know. What a loss... *sigh* Oh! I didn't mention this in the other chapter because I...didn't...but thank you jazzypunker at fanfiction, for confirming Mr. Evans's name. :D  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem  
Chapter Five  
  
After Mr. Evans had driven off, Michael went into his room. He had some thinking to do. What the hell kind of mother just up and left a daughter like Liz with an abusive father, to go to *Oklahoma* with a guy named Rob and club-hop? It completely blew him away. And the best part was that she'd called, hoping to explain? Please! Michael had wanted to cheer when Liz hung up on her mother. But Michael didn't cheer. And anyway, the situation didn't really call for pom-poms.  
  
He rolled his eyes. His sense of humor was so freakin' warped it was almost scary. He pulled the covers back and climbed in, after setting his alarm clock. He didn't care that much about getting to school on time, but he didn't really have anything better to do, so why not?  
  
Of course, making it to the Evanses before Max, Isabel and Liz went to the bus stop would only be a plus.  
  
***  
  
The next morning, he was up and out the door even before Hank awoke from his hangover-induced semi-coma he'd passed out from on the couch. Michael arrived at Max's house and, instead of Max, who usually opened the door, it was a sleepy-eyed Liz, finger-combing her bedhead. He tousled her hair even more as he walked by, causing her to try to smack him lightly. Max walked into the living room, trying not to look at Liz. Michael glanced at her to try to figure out why. She was wearing a gray Harvard t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants-nothiing revealing or anything. So why were Maxwell's ears on fire?  
  
"What's shakin', Maxwell?" he asked, then pulled him aside. "What's up with Liz?"  
  
"Izzy and I dreamwalked her last night."  
  
"What?! That's low, Maxwell."  
  
"I know, I know. But, she was having a nightmare or something. You should have heard her-she sounded like a hurt puppy..." Max shut up and Liz walked past them, towards the bathroom with her bag.  
  
"Why didn't you just wake her up?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"So what'd you see?"  
  
"The stuff you'd expect. That's why I can't look at her... I feel like I violated her or something."  
  
Michael cracked up. "You didn't rape her, Maxwell."  
  
"Not so loud!" Max hissed, looking around.  
  
"Come on, Boy With Flaming Ears. Let's go bug Blondie."  
  
"You leave Isabel alone," Diane said, brushing past them. "It's time for breakfast." She tapped on the bathroom door. "Liz, honey, you almost done?"  
  
"Yes ma'm. I'll be out in a minute."  
  
"We'll wait for you, baby."  
  
"That's okay. They're hungry. I'll be right out."  
  
Diane smiled at them and headed into the kitchen. The boys followed, and soon after, Liz came in, taking the empty seat between Michael and Max. They said grace (of course), then passed around the plates of French toast. As Liz was reaching for one, her sleeve slid down, revealing her quickly- healing but still blatantly obvious cuts. Mrs. Evans grabbed her arm.  
  
"Liz, what on earth happened?"  
  
"I scratched myself in my sleep the other night," Liz replied, trying to pull her arm away. Diane grabbed her hand and uncurled the fingers.  
  
"With what? These are all trimmed."  
  
Liz shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm talented?"  
  
Mrs. Evans released Liz's arm and shared a Look with her husband. Meanwhile, Max and Liz were sharing a Look of their own.  
  
"Eat up, you guys," Phillip said, clearing his throat. "Wouldn't want you to miss the bus."  
  
***  
  
In science, just before school was over, the teacher stood in the front of the room, holding their test booklets. Michael saw Liz's shoulders stiffen.  
  
"I was quite busy this weekend," the teacher said smugly. "And first of all, I'd like to congratulate you. On the whole, this class did better than any other class I teach. There were, of course, a few failing grades, but far fewer than usual." She marched up and down the aisles, handing out the sheets. Michael didn't even need to know what Liz got-the way it seemed like her whole body collapsed told him everything. She slowly slid it into her notebook and sat for the last few minutes staring at the cover of her binder.  
  
Finally the bell rang, and everyone practically flew out the door. Liz hesitantly approached the teacher, and Michael hung back again.  
  
"Is there any chance I could maybe take a retest, or maybe do extra credit to bring this up?"  
  
"You had a chance, Miss Parker. It was called studying."  
  
"So there's nothing?"  
  
"I'm afraid not."  
  
Liz nodded, looking numb. "Thank you." She gathered her stuff and went out to her locker, slowly piling her books inside. After most of the people had gone, Alex ran up to her.  
  
"I heard she passed back the tests today," he said. Liz nodded. "So?"  
  
"I got a D," she said in disbelief.  
  
"How did *that* happen? You *knew* this stuff!"  
  
"I know! I was studying that whole week!"  
  
"Well, it's a good thing your father's out of town, then, right? Maybe he'll forget about it?"  
  
She shook her head. "You have to get it signed, remember? I have to show him."  
  
"God, Liz..." Alex was silent, then hugged her. "Call me as soon as he signs it. Remember, okay? Otherwise I won't sleep."  
  
Liz laughed a little. "You're such a worrywart..."  
  
"That's better than being a Wart Face like your dad."  
  
Liz didn't respond to that, and Michael headed over.  
  
"Hi, Michael," Liz said. Alex just stared at him in surprise.  
  
"Something wrong?" Michael asked.  
  
"Just wondering why you're standing here."  
  
"'Cause me and Liz are best buddies now. Aren't we?" He slung an arm around her neck, and she laughed and pushed it off, pulling her backpack over her shoulders.  
  
"Sure. Whatever," she said, then hugged Alex. "Don't worry so much. You'll get an ulcer before you're eighteen."  
  
"If I make it to eighteen before you kill me, girl," he replied, making a face.  
  
"How on *earth* am *I* going to kill *you*, Alex Whitman?"  
  
"I don't know. You just will." He laughed, then seemed to remember something and pulled a package of fake nails out of his shirt pocket, handing them to her. "Here. If you're going to use such an obviously fake cover story, you at least need proof. And I'm not going to tell you what I had to go through to get these."  
  
Liz laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for risking your manhood for me."  
  
Alex made a face. "That's one word I never need to hear out of your mouth again, Liz Parker," he said. Max and Isabel came up to them.  
  
"I hope you're happy, you two," Isabel said impatiently. "We've missed the bus."  
  
"Omigosh!" Michael exclaimed. "Like, now we have to walk, like, forever!"  
  
"Shut up, Michael," Isabel said.  
  
Alex kind of gave Isabel a sideways glance and then looked back at Liz. "Can I walk with you to the Crashdown?"  
  
"Actually, Dad said not to open the Crashdown this week."  
  
"Why not? I thought you guys weren't doing well."  
  
"He said that I should study." She shrugged. "I'm not going to complain... I hate working there, anyway."  
  
He laughed. "Then can I walk you home?"  
  
"I'm staying at the Evanses."  
  
"What? Since when? You're willing to stay at Max's house but not mine? No offense, Max."  
  
"None taken."  
  
Liz laughed. "You sound like Maria, Alex."  
  
"Do not insult me like that!"  
  
"I'm sorry. I could walk *you* home, though."  
  
"That would be very nice." He grinned at her, and Liz looked over at Max.  
  
"Do you think your parents would let me?"  
  
"Why wouldn't they?"  
  
Liz shrugged. "Then could you tell them that I'll be back in a little bit?"  
  
"Yep. So then I guess we'll go. See you later."  
  
He, Isabel, and Michael headed to the Evanses. Diane came in from the kitchen.  
  
"Hey guys. Where's Liz?" she asked.  
  
"She's walking Alex home," Max replied, hanging up his backpack. "She said she'd be back in a little bit.  
  
"Okay. Do you three have homework?"  
  
They all made a face, and she laughed. "I guess you do. Get on that, and I'll call you when dinner's ready."  
  
They did, and, after a while, Michael got up to get something to drink. He paused in the doorway when he noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Evans were in there, talking.  
  
"What are we going to do about this?" Phillip asked, stirring a pan on the stove.  
  
"What can we do?"  
  
"Tell someone, for sure. I mean, the guy's been my best friend forever, but what he's doing is..." he trailed off, not knowing a word bad enough.  
  
"Phillip, this is Roswell. It's a small town. You don't do things like that."  
  
"What-protect children?"  
  
"Go to the police for every little thing."  
  
"This is hardly little, Diane. You saw her arm this morning-I can't even stand to think about what's he's doing to her."  
  
"We can keep an eye on her. Like we do for Michael."  
  
"It's not going to help once Geoff gets back and she goes home. And it's different for her. Michael is Max's friend-he doesn't feel uncomfortable here. You've seen how Liz acts-she's practically terrified here."  
  
"Phillip, she's been abused-she's going to be practically terrified anywhere."  
  
"That's not right."  
  
"I know it's not. But until we think her life is in serious danger, we should just do what we're doing now."  
  
"What-sitting on our *asses* and not doing *anything*?"  
  
"Shh. They'll hear you. And we are doing something. We're giving her a place to feel safe."  
  
"How safe can you feel when you jump at every little sound?"  
  
"Do you hit her? No. Are you going to hit her? No."  
  
"Does she know that? No."  
  
"Yes she does. It's just a habit, Phillip. It's nothing personal." She laughed and rubbed her husband's shoulder. "Once she spends more time here, she'll know that. Don't you remember how Michael was when he first started coming over?"  
  
Phillip laughed. "Yeah. I thought that the poor kid was going to have a heart attack."  
  
"Well, look at him now."  
  
"Fine. But we're going to the police if she starts climbing in our windows in the middle of the night because of Geoff."  
  
"Agreed." She kissed him. "Now let's get this stuff on the table."  
  
Michael spun around, nearly running into Liz. "Oh. Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"When'd you get back?"  
  
"A few minutes ago. What were you looking at?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing. Don't you have homework?"  
  
"Yes. You do too. I saw it on the table."  
  
"So let's go finish, then."  
  
She rolled her eyes and they returned to the coffee table until Diane called them for dinner.  
  
***  
  
After they had eaten, Phillip slipped a video into the VCR. "Everyone up for a movie?"  
  
"What movie is it?" Isabel asked.  
  
"Just sit down. You'll see."  
  
Everyone got comfortable-Isabel cross-legged on the floor, Phillip and Diane on the loveseat, and Max and Michael on either side of Liz-and Phillip started the movie.  
  
It was one of those Stephen King movies, and Max cheered. "It's been forever since I've seen this one!" he exclaimed to Liz. She just kind of looked at him, smiling. Liz tried to watch the movie, but every other scene she was hiding her eyes. Michael shared a glance with Max, and during one of the more suspenseful scenes, they both grabbed her shoulders. She jumped, but then realized who it was and punched them.  
  
"Behave over there, you three," Mr. Evans said in his mock-stern voice. Michael punched Liz's shoulder so lightly it wasn't even a punch, and they were still for the rest of the movie.  
  
After it had ended, Mrs. Evans looked over at them. Liz was leaning on Michael, asleep. Diane smiled.  
  
"Michael, you want to stay over tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. Thanks."  
  
"Yep." She got up to retrieve Liz's blankets. "Liz. Get up so I can make your bed, honey."  
  
Liz opened her eyes a little, and stood up unsteadily. Max leapt up to put his arm around her, and Michael stood next to them. Mrs. Evans finished, and kissed Liz's forehead. "Good night."  
  
"'Night," Liz mumbled. Max tightened his arm in a sort of halfway hug, and she smiled. The rest of them left the room, Michael turning the living room light off.  
  
A little while later, he awakened with a start, adrenaline pumping through his veins. What was that about? Had he dreamt something? He tried to remember. No... he hadn't. Instinctively, he stood and headed out to the living room. Sure enough, Liz was curled into a ball, whimpering-like Max said-like a hurt puppy. He put his hand on her shoulder, intending to wake her up but instead getting pulled into her dream.  
  
She was in the Crashdown, taking orders, of course. As Michael watched, everyone disappeared, replaced by familiar faces from school. Liz's father came out and started yelling at her, and all heads swiveled towards them. She backed away, but he followed, raising his hand and smacking her. She cringed away silently, while everyone else looked on. Her father kept yelling at her and hitting her, and Michael had to look away. When he looked up, everyone was laughing, and they all filed out the door, including a merry Geoff. Liz stood there, sniffling and looking out the window. Michael followed her gaze. He and Max were walking past, but as they saw her, they stopped and Max hit Michael's arm. They looked at her, then walked away, shaking their heads.  
  
Liz woke up, kicking him out of her head. She automatically shrunk away from his touch, trying to see who it was. Michael knelt and brushed her hair away from her forehead.  
  
"What are you doing?" Liz asked, her voice thick with sleep.  
  
"You were having a nightmare, right?"  
  
He felt her nod a little.  
  
"Just be quiet. I'll be right here."  
  
"You don't have to." She laughed. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."  
  
"Shh." He traced her forehead with his thumb, then took her hand. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not. I'm not leaving you."  
  
He felt her relax, and soon her breathing was deep and slow again. He was reluctant to get up and go back to Max's room, and he was so tired... Just a few minutes, and I'll go back, he thought sleepily. Those minutes stretched out, and when he woke up for the second time, his knees were numb from kneeling. He carefully stood, bending over to kiss Liz's forehead. She mumbled something and her hand came up, stroking his cheek. A chill ran down his spine-a good one-and he grinned, squeezing her hand and returning to Max's room.  
  
***  
  
The next day was some sort of staff meeting or something, so it was a half day. It was kind of weird, but no one was going to complain about only having to be in school for four hours. Well, the parents maybe. Just none of the kids. The four of them, plus, on a whim, Alex, were in the Evanses backyard, playing (for some reason) tag. Everything was fine for a while- they were having fun and all that, but then Liz's foot caught in a dip in the grass and she pitched forward, catching herself awkwardly with her hand. Michael and Max were at her side immediately, helping her to her feet.  
  
"Are you okay?" Max asked. Liz winced.  
  
"I think so." She wiggled her fingers and sucked a breath in through her teeth. "I...did something to my hand, though."  
  
Alex grabbed her wrist gently and looked at it. "It's not broken."  
  
"How do you know?" Michael demanded.  
  
"Michael, he's practically a PhD. He knows what he's talking about," Liz said, rolling her eyes at him.  
  
"I think it's just sprained. You shouldn't have to go to a doctor...you heal fast, anyway. Max, do you guys have any ACE bandages?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's go inside."  
  
Once inside, they found the bandages and Mrs. Evans, who made Liz sit down.  
  
"It's just a sprain, Mrs. Evans," Alex said. "Nothing's broken, and she can move her fingers."  
  
"Thank you, Alex. Here, let me do that. I've done it tons of times for Isabel after dance class."  
  
Isabel nodded, and Alex handed the woman the bandage. She quickly wrapped Liz's wrist, patting it gently. "That okay, Liz?"  
  
She nodded. "Thank you. Can we go back out now?"  
  
"Go ahead-I'm not going to stop you. Just, don't run around...our ground isn't exactly level-don't want you to fall again and hurt yourself worse."  
  
Liz nodded, and they went back outside, not returning to the house until much later, when the sun was going down. Alex had just headed home, and the four of them were dirty and hungry. Mr. Evans (who had just come home from work) took a look at them and laughed, swinging Isabel up into his arms.  
  
"What in the world have you four been doing?"  
  
"We were just outside, Dad," Isabel said. "Let me down."  
  
He laughed and put her down. "Well, you'd better go clean up before dinner." He seemed to notice Liz's wrist. "What happened?"  
  
"I fell," she smiled.  
  
"Well, be more careful. Your dad'll think we were beating you or something." Liz stiffened, and he looked like he wanted to smack himself. She left, as did Michael, except he hung in the doorway again, listening.  
  
"What'd you say that for?" Diane demanded. He shrugged.  
  
"It just slipped out. I forgot..."  
  
"What's done is done," she sighed. "Come on. Let's get the table set."  
  
"I was talking to a friend of mine today," he said.  
  
"Oh? What about?"  
  
"Our little houseguest."  
  
"Phillip, you didn't!"  
  
"I didn't tell him any details or anything. But he said that we could probably take Geoff to court just on the fact that he left her alone."  
  
"And do what? Get her put into a foster home? We know how well that works."  
  
"He said we might be able to get temporary custody of her, depending on what kind of judge we had."  
  
"Yeah, or we'll end up taking her from her home for nothing. She's not like Michael, Phillip. We have a chance with him-we're basically his parents, anyway. If we get her taken away from her father, she'll probably just end up in a children's home or something."  
  
"Isn't it worth a try?"  
  
"Where is all this coming from? I thought we agreed that, as long as her life wasn't in serious danger, we'd just keep an eye on her."  
  
"Every day she spends with Geoff, her life is in danger."  
  
"Listen to yourself. She's spent her whole life with him-nothing bad's happened yet."  
  
"Nothing bad? You don't think a father hitting his daughter is bad? Are you crazy?!"  
  
"Don't raise your voice at me, Phillip Evans. And you know full well what I mean. Why don't you calm down? She's in no danger right now."  
  
Michael shook his head and turned around, running into Liz. She grabbed his shoulder to steady them and looked into the kitchen.  
  
"Why do you always sneak up on me like that?"  
  
"I don't sneak. You just can't hear me."  
  
"I can hear anything. You definitely sneak."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Her eyes darkened in fear. "I heard what they were talking about. How do they know?"  
  
"From what I've heard, they found out. No one told them or anything." He shook her good arm-the one with the scratches. "And this isn't exactly subtle." He looked at her-there were tears in her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
"They want to take me away from Dad..."  
  
"Isn't that a good thing?"  
  
"I guess...but..." she trailed off quietly, looking at her feet. He caught her chin.  
  
"Hey. These are Max's parents, okay? They're not out to hurt you. Me and Max won't let anyone take you out of Roswell. Especially Max." He laughed, and a small smile crossed her face, barely making it to her eyes. "Don't worry about it." He pulled her to him for a hug, then pulled back and gently rubbed at a tearstreak.  
  
"Dry your eyes before we go in there... Mr. Evans'll probably notice anyway, though. And don't worry about it. They aren't going to do anything for a while-they don't need to."  
  
Liz nodded, and Michael hugged her one last time before they headed into the kitchen. Mr. Evans *obviously* noticed that Liz'd been crying, and he and Diane shared a Look, but he said nothing. Max and Isabel came in, and dinner began. 


	6. 6

Author: Katydidit  
  
Email: NobodysFool2507yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...more polar now...)  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: Just read it. :-P  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem.  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Just when it seemed that Liz had finally begun to feel safe with the Evanses, her father returned and she had to go home. That morning she was tense at breakfast-worried, Michael knew, about that stupid test.  
  
"Well, Liz," Phillip said, clearing his throat. "It's been a real pleasure having you here."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she mumbled to her plate. "I've enjoyed staying here."  
  
"I want you to know that if you ever need to get away-from whatever-you're always welcome here."  
  
Liz stiffened but said nothing.  
  
"Want me to drive you guys, or do you want to take the bus?"  
  
"I can take the bus, Dad," Isabel said. "Jodee has something she wants to show me."  
  
"What about you three?"  
  
"We can bus it too, Dad. Thanks, though."  
  
"Then you'd better hurry, before you miss it."  
  
Max and Isabel stumbled out of their chairs, kissing their parents, and the four of them ran to the bus stop.  
  
At Liz's usual stop, no one got on. Max turned around.  
  
"Is Maria sick?" he asked her.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What on earth will you do without her?"  
  
"Enjoy a day of peace?" She cracked. Max grinned and turned around.  
  
At lunch, Max and Michael walked into the courtyard. Liz was leaning on a tree and looking worried; Alex was sitting by her and picking at the grass. The boys headed over. Liz looked up at then and smiled.  
  
"What's wrong?" Michael asked, shooting his straw wrapped at Alex.  
  
"Just worrying," she said with a sigh. "About that test. Dad'll see it tonight."  
  
The boys were silent and that sank in.  
  
"I'll leave my window open," Max offered. "That's what I do for Michael."  
  
Liz paled, and Michael knew she was remembering Phillip's words about her climbing in any windows because of Geoff.  
  
"I'll be fine. Don't leave your window open. I mean, haven't you ever heard about the Lindbergh baby?"  
  
"He's a bit big to get kidnapped, Liz," Alex said, examining Max. Liz shrugged.  
  
"You never know. Someone might want him." But she smiled kindly and put her hand on his leg to show she was kidding. The tips of his ears reddened in pleasure, and Max looked down at his tray. Not much more was said, and the day went on as usual.  
  
That night, Michael hung out in his room until Hank stumbled out of the trailer, and then went out into the 'living room'. He flipped through the television, then, upon realizing that there was nothing on, sighed and turned it off, flinging the remote away and getting to his feet. Something- some type of sixth sense-was telling him to go to the park. Never one to argue with himself (hah!), he left.  
  
Big surprise. No one was there. Michael shrugged and sat against a tree, picking up a small rock and rubbing it between his fingers. After a while, he heard a small noise and jerked his head up.  
  
"Told you I didn't sneak," Liz said wryly.  
  
"Are you okay He's seen the test?"  
  
"He did." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'll survive."  
  
"Come here."  
  
She sat down painfully, leaning against the tree and holding her side. Not wanting to hurt her, Michael kept his hands to himself, though he wanted to pull her to him.  
  
"How bad was it?"  
  
"No worse than usual." She shifted.  
  
"Well, where'd he get you?"  
  
Liz held out her bandaged arm, wiggling the fingers with a grimace. "He twisted this..." She shifted again, pulling up her shirt to expose her ribs. Michael brushed his fingers gently against the burning skin. "I'll be pretty bruised tomorrow, but I heal fast. No worries."  
  
Michael put his arm around her. "Big worries. I'm going to sound like Max here, but hear me out. You need to tell someone. You need to get help."  
  
"Why?" She pulled away. "So someone can take me away from the only home I've ever known?"  
  
"Liz, he hits you-"  
  
"Michael, he is my father. He doesn't mean it."  
  
Michael knew it was mean, but he reached between them and poked her softly in the ribcage. She hissed and glared at him.  
  
"What the hell did you do that for?" She demanded, shrinking away.  
  
"I didn't mean it."  
  
She sighed in disgust, looking betrayed, and went over to the swings, kicking viciously to get started.  
  
"Isn't that what you just said?" Michael demanded, standing in front of her so she had to stop to avoid hitting him. "He hurts you but he doesn't mean it?"  
  
"Your-whatever-does it to you, doesn't he?"  
  
"That's completely different!"  
  
"How?"  
  
"For one thing, I'm not you!" Michael roared.  
  
"What?" She stood up.  
  
"Hank isn't my father. I have to put up with him, or I'll end up leaving Max and Isabel. And...I'm stronger than you."  
  
Her eyes flashed. "You're basing this on what?" She asked in a quiet voice, one much like Hank used in those rare moments where he was sober and mad at him-not drunk and mad at him. Had Michael not known Liz better he'd be intimidated. Still, he shrugged.  
  
"What, because I'm a girl, you're stronger than I am? Just like that?"  
  
Wait a minute. This was Liz Parker-how many times in the last few weeks had he held her in his arms and felt how small she was-had he seen her cry? Why was he letting her scare him? He stepped forward and straightened up to his full height, forcing her to look up at him.  
  
"Basically."  
  
"I know what you're trying to do, Michael Guerin, and it won't work. You may have more muscle than me, but I've dealt with more than you would know."  
  
Immediately, Michael thought about the Secret. "I highly doubt that," he replied, letting his eyes bore into hers. She wavered and took a small step backwards, stumbling. Michael reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her.  
  
"What?" he asked, taunting. "Do I scare you?"  
  
"What's scary about you?" she challenged, though most of the fight had left her voice, replaced by a hint of a tremor.  
  
"You tell me."  
  
Liz growled in frustration and turned to leave. He grabbed her arm, yanking her back.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Away from here. This is where I come to... pull myself together-not to be insulted and berated. Let me go."  
  
Michael didn't let her go, but loosened his grip, which he realized must have been crushing. And she'd barely winced. "I'm sorry. I'm just sick of seeing you hurt like this. You're Liz Parker...you shouldn't have to deal with that."  
  
Liz pulled her arm free and stepped forward, running her fingers through his hair. "And you're Michael Guerin...so you should?"  
  
He caught her hand. "It's different for me."  
  
She smiled sardonically. "Let's not start that again."  
  
Michael laughed and released her. "So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Go home...go to bed. I'm really tired."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
She looked like she was going to say something, but her eyes fluttered shut and she pitched forward against him.  
  
"Liz? Liz!" he shook her, pulling her up into his arms at the same time. She didn't answer, so what else could he do? He carried her to the Evanses. He knew she'd be pissed when she woke up (he suppressed that mental 'if'), but this was beyond that. He shifted her in his arms to pound on the door. After a while, the living room light flipped on and Max opened the door, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Michael, what are you-" But when he saw Liz, he jerked awake. "Bring her in here. What happened?" Michael lay Liz on the couch, reluctant to have her leave his arms  
  
"I don't know," Michael said, examining her pale face. "We were talking, and then she just-fell, or something."  
  
Before either of them could say anything else, Liz stirred and moaned a little. Michael was at her side in an instant.  
  
"Are you okay? Do you know where you are? Say something."  
  
"Give me a second," Liz griped, pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes.  
  
"Are you okay?" Max asked in a hushed voice, glancing at the doorway to make sure his parents hadn't heard.  
  
"I'm...yeah. I'm fine."  
  
"What happened?" Michael repeated. Liz went to sit up, but he grabbed her shoulders and pressed her to the couch. She glared at him.  
  
"My guess is I passed out?"  
  
"Yeah, but why?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"It was your dad, wasn't it?" Michael demanded. She shifted and nodded slowly.  
  
"You can't go to sleep," Max said. "It's dangerous."  
  
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Liz demanded, pushing Michael's hands off of her and sitting up. Max kind of shrunk away.  
  
"Not sleep?"  
  
"Max, honey, what are you doing up?" Mrs. Evans called on her way into the bathroom.  
  
"Nothing...I'll go back to bed in a minute."  
  
"We'd better get out of here," Michael said. "I'll keep you from going to sleep-it's, like, twelve hours, right?"  
  
Max nodded, and Liz glared. Michael ignored her, though, helping her to her feet. Despite the scene just a few minutes ago, she was walking perfectly fine. Max showed them out of the house, looking after them for a while.  
  
He figured it was safe to take her to the trailer-it was better than sitting out on the streets all night, and Hank was at the bar, anyway. Liz seemed a little nervous, though, standing in the middle of the kitchen and crossing her arms. Michael glanced at her and opened the fridge.  
  
"Hungry? Thirsty?" he asked.  
  
"No," she replied quietly.  
  
"Good." He grabbed the milk carton and emptied the lumps into the sink. "We only have beer and water, anyway." He turned around and grinned. Liz returned the expression halfheartedly. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," she lied. He went over to her and took her hand, then led her into his room. She stiffened, and he laughed.  
  
"Relax, you goof. This is just in case Hank gets home. It's not likely...even if he does, I bet he'll be so wasted he wouldn't notice if you were running around the trailer with your hair on fire-" He paused, and Liz laughed. "- but just in case." He looked around, and quickly yanked the cover up on his bed, then gestured to it. She laughed and sat. "So. What do you want to do?"  
  
"Sleep?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"Other than that."  
  
Liz sighed and flopped onto her stomach. "I don't know. Talk?"  
  
"About what?" He joined her, laying on his stomach. She just shrugged.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"For someone so smart, you don't know much." He grinned and lightly tugged her hair. She made a face and punched him in the arm.  
  
"Jerk. And anyway, I never said I was smart."  
  
"No... You just let everyone else think you are."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Oh, I hit a nerve." She ignored him. "Fine."  
  
Liz rolled her eyes. "If this place was on fire, and you could only save one thing, what would you save?"  
  
"My ass. Yours too, if you were here." Michael stuck his tongue out at her. "There's nothing else here worth saving. What about you?"  
  
"My journal," she replied immediately.  
  
"Any reason?"  
  
"I've had it since I was five years old. It's...me." She shrugged. "I write everything in it...if I lost it...I don't know what I'd do."  
  
"Fascinating. Okay, my turn."  
  
"Funny. You didn't strike me as a hypothetical questions kind of guy."  
  
"Shut up. I'm not. I'm just keeping you awake." He grinned. "Hm. If you had to give up one of your senses, which would it be?"  
  
"Yeah, give me the hard one. Um. Taste. That way, I wouldn't be able to taste the really gross foods." She grinned.  
  
"But what about the ones you like?"  
  
She shrugged. "I'd learn to live with it. I just picked taste because I love all the other senses. What would you pick?"  
  
He thought. "I don't know. Taste, probably. Or...yeah. I need all the other ones."  
  
"Copycat. Okay. If you could go to one place in the universe, where would you go, and would you stay there?"  
  
Instantly, Michael thought about whichever planet he came from. But he couldn't tell her that. Or could he? He stole a glance sideways-she was looking at him patiently, a smile in her eyes. "Maybe...another planet. Just to see what it was like. I might stay..."  
  
Liz nodded. "I'd go somewhere with snow."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"For the snow, duh. I haven't seen any since I was really little-I don't remember what it's like."  
  
"Would you stay?"  
  
"Maybe. Depending on how I liked the cold."  
  
"Cheater."  
  
"Eh."  
  
"So..." Michael said, looking at his hands. "What's your first memory?"  
  
Liz looked at him strangely. "Why?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm just asking things. Humor me here."  
  
"Fine." She closed her eyes, thinking. Just when he was going to shake her- in case she'd fallen asleep-she opened her eyes, smiling. "That's weird."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My first real memory...is of you guys."  
  
"Us guys?"  
  
"You and Max and Isabel. Kind of. It was the first day of kindergarten, and Mom was dropping me off, and I was scared. I saw you three... Except you weren't really three then...I don't know how well you knew each other. Anyway, Isabel and Max didn't really look like they wanted to go-Isabel was crying, and Max looked like he was about to. But you were standing there, not even looking nervous. I decided if-and forgive me here-it's my inner five-year-old speaking-a yucky boy wasn't afraid, why should I be?"  
  
"So I'm a yucky boy?" He teased, accomplishing his goal of making Liz blush.  
  
"No-"  
  
"I was kidding. So, wait. I'm not a yucky boy? What kind of boy does that make me?" She looked away, ignoring him. "Okay, okay. Wanna know my first memory?"  
  
She looked back, and nodded.  
  
"I remember-" He paused, trying to figure out how much of this he could tell her and how much he should keep Secret. "The road they found us on. Us guys." He grinned. "A car drove up-except we didn't know what it was, so we were scared. Max and Isabel stood there, but I hid behind a rock. These two people got out of the car and took Max and Isabel, and... that was that. Later, I went looking for water, and this old guy jumped out from behind a pile of rocks-scared the holy crap outta me, by the way-and took me to the...wherever it was I went."  
  
Liz was silent, then smiled. He knew she was going to tease him for something. He also knew she'd be kidding. "So the fearless Michael Guerin does get afraid." She smiled kindly. "So, I know how Max and Isabel got their last names-the Evanses adopted them. But how'd you get yours?"  
  
"Probably where I got my first name, too. I don't know. It must have been from my first foster home."  
  
"Your first-how many foster homes have you had?"  
  
"I don't know. At least five. I didn't really count them when I was littler."  
  
She nodded, looking solemn. "That's sad."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Moving from place to place-no family. It must have been hard."  
  
"It wasn't. In kindergarten I found Max and Isabel, and they became my family. I was fine."  
  
Liz nodded again, saying nothing. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at him and smiled. "What do you think is the weirdest thing about you?"  
  
"I like Tabasco sauce."  
  
"Hardly remarkable, Guerin. You're in New Mexico."  
  
"On ice cream?"  
  
"Ew."  
  
"It's good."  
  
"Sounds rancid."  
  
"Hey, don't knock it 'till you've tried it. Your turn."  
  
"I have a birthmark shaped like a bear."  
  
"This I've gotta see. Where is it? Can I see it?"  
  
"Just under my shoulder blade..."  
  
"Let's see."  
  
Liz laughed and sat up, pulling her shirt up so he could see. Sure enough, right under her right shoulder blade was the unmistakable shape of a tiny bear-not just the head, either-the entire body of a bear, shrunk down so that it would fit on Michael's thumbnail. He reached out and brushed a finger across it, and Liz shivered, quickly yanking her shirt back down. She lay back on her stomach, as did Michael.  
  
"Sorry..."  
  
"For what? Oh. No. It was...I got the chills, is all." She smiled.  
  
"Oh. Hey, you're not going home, but isn't your dad going to be worried?"  
  
"No. Whenever he..." She looked away. "He leaves for a day, then comes back and acts like nothing happened.  
  
Michael was silent for a while, but resumed talking when he was afraid she was going to sleep. Their conversation went on like this until Michael looked at the clock and realized that it was nine o'clock.  
  
"It's probably safe now," he said, yawning for the hundredth time that night and looking over at Liz. She laughed.  
  
"Finally."  
  
"Want me to walk you home?"  
  
"Michael, I have been awake for twenty-four hours. I am not walking home right now."  
  
"Then what are you planning on doing?" he asked, though he had a hunch. She looked at him and rolled onto her side, curling up a little.  
  
"I'm sleeping right here. Don't try to move me, either. I may look small but you'll never lift me once I've gone all limp."  
  
"I've done it before," he replied, sticking his tongue out at her.  
  
"You want to carry me home, be my guest. I'll just be asleep..." she let out a small yawn and almost immediately was asleep. Michael laughed and pulled his blanket up so it covered her over, then lay down next to her. She wouldn't have a problem with it-it was his bed, and she was dead to the world, anyway.  
  
They slept. 


	7. 7

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat  
  
Email: NobodysFool2507yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. ('Cept...getting Polarer by the minute, lmao)  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: ...I'm out of witty things to say right now... Have fun.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem  
Chapter 7 (?)  
  
When he woke up later that day, Michael was first aware that the sun was halfway down the sky, and then that he was holding something. It could have been his pillow, except his pillow didn't smell like...rain. He opened his eyes.  
  
Liz was laying there, her body curled to match his. Something ran down his spine, and he shivered a little. But...what was it about seeing her like that that just looked...right? Stop it, Michael. First off, you're thirteen years old. Second, she's going to end up with Max. He didn't know how he knew this-he just did. It was like a weight in his stomach. Sheesh. What was this all about? He should get up-make sure Hank was either passed out or not home. So why wasn't he moving? He moved his arm from around her middle to pull a strand of her hair behind her ear, telling himself that he didn't mean to trail his finger along her milky skin. Yeah...that was it. It was an accident. Liz stretched, arching her back against him and sighed.  
  
"Good morning?" he asked quietly, seeing if she was awake. Liz turned onto her other side, so she was facing him.  
  
"Try good afternoon," she replied softly, her voice sweetly raspy with sleep.  
  
"Whichever." He grinned. She rolled her eyes, and he sat up, suddenly glaringly aware of the fact that he had a girl in his bed. She followed suit, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them, regarding him sleepily. "Sorry my bed isn't real comfortable...might as well sleep on the ground."  
  
"I was perfectly fine," Liz said. What was that light behind her smile?  
  
"Well, fine."  
  
"Fine." She was quiet, and then laughed.  
  
"What?  
  
"I'm just thinking about how wigged Alex is going to be. I didn't call him last night...I wasn't in school today. His hair's probably turning white."  
  
Michael laughed. "He just wants to keep you around a few more years."  
  
"I think he just wants me around now so he has an excuse to be around Isabel."  
  
"Then I wasn't the only one who saw that."  
  
"Saw...what?"  
  
"That he likes her." Liz stared at him in disbelief, until he got self- conscious. "What?"  
  
"You're a guy."  
  
"Am I?" He made a face.  
  
"You are. You're not supposed to notice things like that. You're supposed to be clueless."  
  
"Oh. My bad. Would you rather I was a drooling idiot?" Liz laughed. "Seriously, though, Alex loves you." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on. Not that way. Sheesh."  
  
She grinned "I know. I was kidding."  
  
"You didn't say a word. How could you have been doing anything?"  
  
"I got you all defensive, didn't I?"  
  
"I do not get defensive."  
  
"Whatever." Liz looked over at his alarm clock. "I should go home."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To go to work. To get something to eat. I'm starving."  
  
"We have beer in the fridge."  
  
"I cannot believe you just offered alcohol to a minor."  
  
"I'm a minor, too."  
  
"You don't drink it, do you?"  
  
"What-beer?"  
  
She nodded, eyes dark as she looked at him.  
  
"No. It's nasty. Anyway, I've seen what it does to Hank-I'd rather not act like that, thanks."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Why-did you think I drank it?"  
  
"It's in there...you never know."  
  
Michael rolled his eyes. There was a familiar banging sound, and Michael leapt off his bed.  
  
"What's that?" Liz hissed.  
  
"That's Hank. Get in the closet."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it!" He pushed her towards the tiny closet, just as Hank slammed the bedroom door open.  
  
"Why weren't you in school today, you worthless little punk? The school called me today-woke me up. Where the hell were you?"  
  
"I was in school."  
  
"Don't you fucking lie to me! You skip school, they take you away."  
  
Michael wanted to calmly point out that Hank didn't give a hairy rodent's butt about him-it was the check-but he chose not to.  
  
"I was in school, Hank. It must have been a problem with the computer."  
  
"You'd better have been," Hank muttered. "Who the hell were you talking to?"  
  
"No one."  
  
"I heard you talking."  
  
"I wasn't."  
  
"You useless snotrag-I heard you."  
  
"I was talking to myself."  
  
"The hell were you doing that for? What the hell could you have to say that could possibly be that interesting?"  
  
Michael was silent. Wrong answer. A beefy hand shot out, knocking Michael against the bed.  
  
"You fucking answer me when I ask you a question."  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"'S what I thought. I'm gonna take a nap. Don't wake me up. And stop talking to yourself, dumbass."  
  
He stomped out, slamming the door shut and dropping onto the couch-Michael heard the couch protest loudly. He waited until he heard Hank's snores before he opened the closet. Liz was cowering in the back corner.  
  
"Does he always talk to you like that?" she whispered, horrified. Michael shifted. She wasn't supposed to look at him like that.  
  
"He's usually too boozed up to talk. Anyway, you can't say anything. Look at your dad."  
  
"He doesn't talk to me like that..."  
  
"Forget it. Come on, let's get out of here, in case he wakes up."  
  
She nodded, and they crept past him, heading to the Crashdown.  
  
"Liz! You're okay!" Max flung himself at Liz, squeezing tightly. She winced, and he pulled away immediately, embarrassed. "Sorry."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"Why didn't you call me last night?" demanded Alex, pulling her to him for a gentle hug.  
  
"I forgot."  
  
"Dumb girl," he teased softly, then kissed her cheek. "You're okay? He didn't-break anything?"  
  
"You tell me." Liz guided his hand under her shirt, to her ribcage. Why was Michael jealous that Alex could touch her there and not hurt her? Alex sighed in relief.  
  
"I don't think so. It's one of the worse, though."  
  
So she'd lied to him last night, when she'd said it was no worse than usual. She looked over at him and shrugged.  
  
"Where else did he get you?"  
  
"He kind of...pushed me, and I hit my head on a table."  
  
"You could have a concussion-you didn't go to sleep last night, did you?" Alex looked frantic. Liz laughed.  
  
"No. Michael kept me awake."  
  
Alex glanced over at him-maybe in gratitude, maybe in confusion. Michael shrugged, and his and Liz's stomachs rumbled quietly. They all laughed.  
  
"If you'll excuse us, we haven't eaten all day," Liz said to Alex and Max, then grabbed Michael's wrist and led him to the counter. "Jose, can we have two burgers, please? And two Cherry Cokes?" She looked over at Michael. "And a bottle of Tabasco sauce?"  
  
"Do you see me wearing one of those skirts?" Jose grumped good-naturedly.  
  
"No, thank god."  
  
"I'll make the burgers, but you get the rest, Missy."  
  
Liz sighed and slid off the stool, grabbing two clean glasses. "Is Cherry Coke okay, or do you want something else?"  
  
"Yeah-no. That's fine."  
  
She grinned and set the glasses down, reaching under the counter for a bottle of Tabasco sauce. He grabbed it and poured a generous amount into his glass. Liz watched, eyes wide and nose wrinkled.  
  
"I told you I liked it," Michael said after taking a swig. Liz said nothing- just shuddered. Michael got an evil idea. "Here. Try it." He held the glass out to her, eyes challenging. Her eyes met his, and they flashed. She raised her eyebrows and took the glass, drinking a bit out of it. She handed it to him.  
  
"There. Now I can say that that is rancid."  
  
"To each his own," Michael shrugged.  
  
"Order up!" Jose said, plopping two plates in the window. "Hurry it up, Missy-you can take over for Goldilocks, who's gone AWOL."  
  
"I'm not supposed to be working today," Liz pretended to whine.  
  
"Yes you are, Miss Slacker," Jose whined right back. Liz giggled and handed Michael his plate.  
  
"Okay, we need to work something out," Michael said quietly, after a while.  
  
"Work what out?"  
  
"Some sort of rules."  
  
"For...?"  
  
"Whatever this is. Our friendship, if that's what you want to call it..."  
  
"Oh." Liz picked at her burger.  
  
"First, no pity, on either side. It doesn't do anyone any good, and it's annoying."  
  
Liz nodded.  
  
"Second, no lying."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You lied to me last night. If you lie, I can't help you. What if you hadn't passed out when you did, and went home, where you did pass out. You wouldn't have known what was going on, and you'd have gone to bed. Then where would you be?"  
  
Liz sighed. "Fine."  
  
"Fine." He made a face at her and finished his-technically, breakfast.  
  
That night, Michael found himself tossing and turning in his bed. It must have been partly that he'd been asleep all day, but it seemed like his arms wanted something to wrap around. He sighed in disgust with himself and pushed his covers aside, getting out of bed. It didn't matter when he went to bed, anyway-it was Friday-tomorrow was Saturday; no school.  
  
He quietly snuck out of the trailer and headed for the park. He paused at the gate-someone was swinging on the swingset. Watching her hair flash under the streetlight, watching her strong legs propel her up into the night sky, he knew who it was. Michael quietly headed in, and by the time Liz looked up, he was practically standing next to the swing. He saw her jump, and she dragged her feet in the dirt to slow down.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked.  
  
"Couldn't sleep."  
  
"It has nothing to do with the fact that we've been asleep all day, of course."  
  
"Of course. Is your dad back yet?"  
  
"Yeah. He got home a few hours ago."  
  
"Where was he?"  
  
"I don't know," she said, unconvincingly. He narrowed her eyes, and, perhaps remembering their agreement, she sighed.  
  
"He was at the bar."  
  
"Huh. That's interesting."  
  
"That's one word for it."  
  
He scoffed and stood behind her, pushing her higher in the swing. After a while, the sky went from black to dark gray, and Liz looked up, dragging her feet in the dirt.  
  
"Oh, great!" she whispered excitedly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sunrise. I've always wanted to see one from stars to sunlight."  
  
"Any reason?" He asked, sitting in a swing. She gave him a withering look.  
  
"Just to have seen one. Are you telling me that you've never done anything just to have done it?"  
  
"I kissed you, didn't I?" Why'd he say it? Why'd he say it? Why'd he say it? He mentally smacked his forehead and looked over at her. She was smiling and looking at her feet-and was that a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks?  
  
"Didn't you do that to gross Maria out?"  
  
Oh. Hm. "Partly." There was an awkward silence, which, for the first time in his life, Michael felt the need to break. "So," he laughed. "How was it?"  
  
Liz laughed. "I don't have anything to compare it to."  
  
"So I gave you your first kiss. Sweet," Michael gloated. She scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it at him-but carefully aimed low to avoid getting it in his eyes, Michael noted.  
  
"It doesn't count if you don't have forewarning," Liz said after a minute.  
  
"You just made that up."  
  
"Did not. It's in the rulebook."  
  
"And where is this rulebook?"  
  
"I can't tell you."  
  
"Because it doesn't exist."  
  
"No. Because if I tell you, they'll kick me out of the club."  
  
"What club?"  
  
"The girl's club, duh." She looked at him like he was an idiot, and he smirked.  
  
"It doesn't exist."  
  
She said nothing. What would she do if he kissed her again? Only one way to find out. He slid his swing over, fighting the chains so he was next to her. She looked up.  
  
"Forewarning?" he said quietly, before putting his lips to her. He felt her mouth move in a reply for a second, then she smiled. He took his feet off the ground and, without anchors, the swing's chains flung him back to where it was supposed to go.  
  
"I gave you your first kiss," he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes, biting her lip. "So how was it this time?"  
  
"Marginally better. No audience." She was quickly turning red, so he just laughed and let it go. "We really have to stop doing this."  
  
"Kissing?" he smirked at her again, and she turned a new shade of red.  
  
"Staying up all night," she said levelly, even though her ears were beginning to look like Maxwell's could.  
  
"Oh. So you don't want to stop kissing then?"  
  
She sighed uncomfortably and looked away, rolling her eyes. "You're such a guy."  
  
"Like you have anyone normal to compare me to."  
  
"You're not normal, buster."  
  
"True."  
  
She laughed and slid off of the swing, laying carefully in the grass with her hand on her side. Michael looked at her for a few minutes, then turned his gaze to the sky, and they were quiet.  
  
"That was interesting," Michael said about half an hour later, when all the colors had disappeared and the sun was in the sky.  
  
"You ruined it," Liz accused.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah, you should be." She sat up, pretending to glare at him. He crossed his eyes at her, which wiped the scowl off her face, replacing it with giggles.  
  
"I should go home," Liz said after a while, plucking a few leaves of grass but not standing up. Michael sat up.  
  
"So go."  
  
Liz sighed and stood. "See you later."  
  
He watched her go, then stood and left as well.  
  
Later that day, Michael dragged himself out of bed and over to the Evanses' house. Max answered the door in his soccer uniform.  
  
"Michael! Thought you were dead. Come on in." He stepped back, and Michael entered.  
  
"How was the game?"  
  
Max looked confused, and then nodded. "We totally lost, man."  
  
"You guys suck."  
  
"Tell me about it. We should be called the Hoovers, not the Shooters."  
  
"The...Hoovers."  
  
"You know. The vacuum cleaner. Because we suck...? Dude."  
  
Michael just looked at him. Max shook his head and headed into the kitchen. "Mom, Michael's going to be staying for lunch, okay?"  
  
"Michael! I thought I heard you. Come here and tell me if this tastes funny." Mrs. Evans called.  
  
"Um...Mine may not be the best palate to test food with, Mrs. Evans. I mean, considering..."  
  
"Oh, hush. Just try it." She spooned some sort of stew into his mouth, and he started choking. She looked worried.  
  
"How is it?"  
  
"It's fine. Just...hot."  
  
She nodded and turned back to the stove. "Hey, Max...Liz wasn't over the other night, was she?"  
  
Max froze and shared a look with Michael. "...No. Why?"  
  
"Just...thought I heard her voice the other night. And There was a long dark strand of hair on the couch today."  
  
"...She did sleep there for almost a week, Mom," Max said uneasily.  
  
"Yeah, on your pillow, honey. Not on the pillow we have out there." Max looked at Michael again, and this time Diane caught them. "Max."  
  
"What, Mom?"  
  
She sighed. "Nothing. Forget it." She was quiet for a minute. "Max."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you knew Isabel was in trouble, would you do something about it?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Even if she told you not to?"  
  
Silence filled the kitchen, and Max shifted uncomfortably. Finally Michael pushed Max away.  
  
"Go change, man. You stink."  
  
"I love you too, Michael," Max cracked, and left. Diane turned around, took a look at Michael, and then sighed and turned back around. Michael stood there, feeling weird, until Max returned.  
  
"You know, Max, we're going out to the movies tonight-you're invited too, Michael-do you want to ask Liz if she wants to come?"  
  
"Um-yeah. I'll ask her today."  
  
"Good." Diane scooped some stew into some bowls.  
  
"This is great, Mom," Max said, grabbing a bowl.  
  
"Don't forget to ask Liz, Max," Diane said, sliding her purse over her shoulder. "I've gotta go shopping. We're out of milk."  
  
"Gotta have the milk," Max said, raising his spoon in goodbye. She rolled her eyes and left.  
  
"Do you think she knows?" Max asked, sitting at the table. Michael grabbed a bowl and joined him.  
  
"Yeah. So does your dad."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I've heard them talking about her."  
  
"You've been spying on my parents?"  
  
"No spying. Overhearing."  
  
Max rolled his eyes, and they ate in silence. When they were finished, Max rinsed out their dishes and placed them in the sink. "Let's go ask her now," he said.  
  
"Ask who what?"  
  
"Ask Liz if she can come tonight."  
  
"Oh. Probably should, huh?"  
  
Max nodded and they went over to the Crashdown, where the last of the lunch crowd was filling a few seats. Liz was flipping through her order pad, apparently looking for something. Michael leaned over the counter.  
  
"Boo!" He said quietly. Liz jumped and looked up.  
  
"Hi. Hi, Max."  
  
"Whatcha looking for?" Max asked, indicating the pad. Liz smiled sheepishly.  
  
"My dad gave me a phone number earlier, and I stuck it in here, but I can't find it."  
  
"Good one. Speaking of which. My mom and dad and Isabel and Michael and me are going to the movies tonight, and my mom told me to invite you. Do you think your dad would let you come?"  
  
Liz thought. "Today's...Saturday? Um...probably. I'll go ask. Don't break into the cash register," she ordered with a mock-scowl, and then headed into the back room. After what seemed like a long time, Liz returned, making a frustrated face.  
  
"What? He didn't say no?" Max asked worriedly. Liz rolled her eyes.  
  
"He doesn't believe me. He wants me to get your phone number so he can call your parents and make sure its okay." She held out her pen, and Max took it, scrawling his phone number onto a napkin.  
  
"Yeah, because you're such a liar, Liz," Michael said. She shrugged and disappeared again, returning a minute later.  
  
"My mom found one of your hairs on the couch this morning," Max said. Liz looked confused.  
  
"From...the night before last."  
  
"Do you guys have a weird cleaning schedule, or...what?"  
  
Max laughed. "I don't know. But she was asking me about it today."  
  
Liz's eyes flashed. "What'd you tell her?"  
  
"I told her I didn't know anything about it." Max shrugged. Liz dropped her gaze, looking regretful. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I didn't mean to make you lie to your parents..." she said. Max took her hand-a surprising show of balls on his part. Liz looked up.  
  
"It's fine. Don't worry about it."  
  
Mr. Parker came to the doorway, and Michael felt a surge of power. He forced himself to calm down-it wasn't easy-and looked up.  
  
"Elizabeth, tell your friends that they need to go home. We still have customers."  
  
Liz nodded stiffly and made a face at them. "I guess I'll see you later," she said. They nodded and left.  
  
Later that day, just as Michael was whipping Max's tail at video games, the telephone rang. Mrs. Evans answered it, and, from what Michael could hear, the person on the other end of the line was Liz's dad. He and Max shared a Look, and Diane came into the room.  
  
"You guys, we're leaving in about half an hour, if you need to get ready or anything."  
  
Michael made a big show of sniffing his armpits. "Nope. I'm good."  
  
Max's mom rolled her eyes, and Max leapt up. "I'm not, though." He left, and Michael shook his head, switching the game over to one-player.  
  
Finally everyone was ready, and they left to pick up Liz. She came out of the restaurant, followed by her father, who stood there with his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"Thanks a lot, Phillip," he said, beaming. "For everything. I've got to run out to White Rock tonight, and I didn't want to leave her home alone all night."  
  
"It's no problem," Phillip said, the words obviously forced.  
  
"Right," Diane cut in, rubbing her husband's hands, which were clenched around the steering wheel. "We love having her."  
  
"'Bye, Elizabeth," Mr. Parker said, and Liz got into the car, squeezing in between Max and Michael. They pulled away.  
  
After the movie, all six of them went out for dinner, and then returned to the Evanses'.  
  
"Ugh," Liz said, smelling her shirt. "I smell like cigarette smoke."  
  
"Yeah...that restaurant might as well not have a non-smoking section," Diane said, kicking off her shoes. "You can get a shower, if you want. Isabel, show her how to work it."  
  
"Okay. Come on, Liz," Isabel said, leading her towards the bathroom.  
  
"So, Liz is staying here again?" Max asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
"Yeah. You heard-her dad's going up to White Rock."  
  
"Cool... Come on, Michael. I demand a rematch at this." Max dug out the video game and the two of them plopped down on the couch, where Michael proceeded to beat the holy crap out of Max four times in a row. Just as Max's luck seemed to be turning, Liz entered the room, looking pale.  
  
"Hey, Liz. Watch me beat him," Max said, not looking up. Michael paused the game.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked Liz.  
  
"Max, where's your mom?" She asked quietly.  
  
"She's in the kitchen, helping Is with her homework. Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah..." She headed into the kitchen. After a minute, the two of them came back through the room and disappeared. Isabel wandered into the living room, flouncing into a chair.  
  
"Where'd Mom go?" Max asked, still beating Michael.  
  
"In there, with Liz..." she said. "She said she'd be back in a little bit. Who's winning?"  
  
"I am!" Max said triumphantly.  
  
"For the first time today, you loser," Michael groused. Isabel laughed and watched them for a while. Mrs. Evans and Liz re-emerged, and Mrs. Evans gave Liz a hug.  
  
"What happened?" Isabel asked, just a tiny twinge of jealously entering her voice.  
  
"Just a little girl...thing," her mother answered with a wink. Liz turned red.  
  
"That's so cool! I haven't started mine yet."  
  
"Soon, honey," Mrs. Evans said. "Let's get back to your homework."  
  
"Yay, Liz!" Isabel said, giving her a hug and returning to the kitchen. Liz sat in the chair Isabel had vacated, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching.  
  
"Who's winning?" she asked. Max beat Michael with a flourish of his hand and tossed the controller onto the couch.  
  
"I did. I beat him!" he sang, doing his own version of Isabel's victory dance. "Everyone must now bow down to the amazing greatness of the all- powerful Max Evans." He bowed deeply, and Michael chucked a pillow at him.  
  
"The first time today," he repeated. "So what was that about, Liz?"  
  
"What was what about?" she asked, turning pink.  
  
"That whole thing. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing you'd want to hear about." She grinned.  
  
"Are you okay?" Max asked.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Good."  
  
She laughed and watched Michael beat Max. After a while, Max's parents came into the room.  
  
"Michael, are you staying here tonight or...what?"  
  
"Yes!" he exclaimed, leaping up off the couch as he reclaimed his title as Grand Master Video King. "Oh. Um...yeah?"  
  
"Okay. Just making sure."  
  
"Okay, Mom," Max said. "Michael, let Liz play."  
  
"Yes, sir." He handed Liz the controller, showing her which buttons did what, and watched her proceed to beat the pants off of Max. He sunk into the couch with a harrumph, while Michael laughed his head off.  
  
"Max, Liz Parker just beat you!"  
  
"Shut up Michael," Max said, looking away. Liz grinned and squeezed his knee.  
  
"It's okay, Max. It's not like I beat you six times."  
  
He made a face at her and she giggled.  
  
"Here, Max, give me a controller. I wanna see if I can beat her," Michael said, flouncing onto the couch next to Liz. Max relinquished his controller and wandered into his room, probably to get ready for bed. Michael and Liz began playing, Michael taking an early lead. About halfway through, a loud crash came from the kitchen, followed by a loud, long string of swear words from a very angry Phillip. Michael felt Liz tense on the couch next to him, and paused the game, heading into the kitchen. Mrs. Evans was there, dabbing at her husband's shirt.  
  
"Calm down, Phillip," she placated. He grabbed the dishcloth from her and began rubbing at the stain on his shirt.  
  
"Sorry. It was...just really hot."  
  
"Phillip, it's hot cocoa. It's supposed to be hot, honey."  
  
He made a face at her, and they noticed Michael.  
  
"Michael, could you go get Max and Isabel, please? Tell them to go into the living room."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it, little boy," she teased, picking up a tray of mugs. He rolled his eyes and retrieved his almost-siblings, and the three of them went into the living room. Mrs. Evans handed them each a mug, and Michael sat next to Liz, who was seemingly making herself very small.  
  
"What is this?" Liz asked him quietly.  
  
"Evans family time."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Every Saturday night, the Evanses get together and drink hot cocoa and...talk."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"You questioning our traditions, Parker?" Isabel scowled, looking into her mug.  
  
"No. Just...asking." She forced a smile.  
  
"Good." Philllip leaned back into his chair, smiling kindly at Liz. She kind of half-smiled at him and shrunk away a fraction of an inch. Michael saw the Look that Phillip and Diane shared, and he and Liz shared a Look of their own.  
  
"So, Michael and Liz, I heard you guys had a science test-I had to sign Max's and Isabel's-how'd you two do?"  
  
Liz visibly flinched.  
  
"Shall I take that to mean not so well?" Diane smiled. Liz looked up, setting her mug on the coffee table.  
  
"Yeah. Not so well."  
  
"Come on, Liz. What'd you get?" Isabel asked.  
  
Liz traced an abstract design on her leg. "Um... A ...D."  
  
"That's rough," Diane said, looking surprised. Liz nodded.  
  
"It sucks."  
  
"What'd you get, Michael?" Phillip asked.  
  
"A C," he said quietly. Liz rolled her eyes.  
  
"Michael Guerin did better that I did." She shook her head in disbelief, and Michael swiped at her, making sure to miss. Liz smiled innocently at him, and the conversation continued until Diane looked at the clock.  
  
"Sheesh. Okay guys, it's time for bed."  
  
"Moooom, it's Saturday," Isabel whined, but Diane didn't waver.  
  
"And you're growing girls and boys. You need sleep."  
  
"That's why you drag us to church at dawn?"  
  
"Hush. Max, do you want to get Liz some blankets?"  
  
"If you insist," Max said, getting up and heading to the closet once more. He returned, dropping the stack onto Liz's lap. "Hey, Mom, can me and Michael sleep in here tonight? Isabel too, if she wants?"  
  
Diane studied them, then sighed. "Fine. You don't let them keep you awake all night, Liz. Because they will talk all night."  
  
"I won't notice. In about five minutes I'll drop off like a rock."  
  
"You're lucky," Phillip said.  
  
"Just because you're a light sleeper doesn't mean anything," Diane said. "You guys go get ready for bed, and bring your sleeping bags in here, I guess."  
  
They did as they were told, and when Michael returned to the room, Liz was sitting amongst the blankets on the couch, looking rather like the queen of the living room. He dragged his bag next to the couch and flopped onto it.  
  
"You're not tired, are you?" He asked her. She opened her eyes.  
  
"No. Not at all."  
  
"Thought so." Max came in and laid his sleeping bag next to Michael's.  
  
"So what's with the slumber party, Evans?" Liz asked, pulling a blanket around her shoulders.  
  
"Just figured it'd be more fun than just sharing a room with Michael. He snores, you know."  
  
"Watch it, Maxwell," Michael replied, wiggling down into his bag. "With all I know about you, I could have you blushing for a month."  
  
Max didn't answer, and Liz laughed, laying down.  
  
"You're going to sleep already?" Max asked, disappointment tinting his voice.  
  
"I'm tired," she smiled.  
  
"Fine." He reached up and flipped off the light, and they went to sleep.  
  
The next day, they were awakened by Phillip turning on the television. Michael sat up, rubbing at his eyes blearily, as did Max.  
  
"Good. You're up. Max, go get ready for church," he said, taking a drink of coffee. Max groaned and obeyed, dragging his bag out of the room. Michael heard movement on the couch behind him, and turned to see Liz sitting up, yawning. She smiled.  
  
"Good morning," she said to the two of them, as Isabel came into the room.  
  
"Why didn't you sleep in here, Blondie?" Michael asked her.  
  
"Come on. Like I don't get enough of my brother during the day." She made a face, and wandered back towards her room after giving her father a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"You two have plans today?" Phillip asked, answered only by shrugs.  
  
"Don't all talk at once," he said, heading into the kitchen.  
  
After they had breakfast and the Evanses had left, Michael and Liz found themselves in the park. For some reason, Liz tapped him on the arm.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're it," she said, and darted away. He rolled his eyes but gave chase, easily catching her. This went on for a while, until they noticed a strange man standing outside of the fence, watching them. When he saw them looking at him, he headed inside, walking up to Liz.  
  
"Are you Liz Parker?" he asked.  
  
"Who wants to know?" she demanded, taking a step away from him.  
  
"Rob, you found her?" they heard a voice call, and Nancy appeared. This set Liz off guard, and the man scooped her up, holding her around the middle. She immediately began struggling.  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
Nancy looked at her. "Hi, Lizzie."  
  
The man tightened his grasp around her ribcage, and Liz yelped in pain. He slapped his hand over her mouth, but after a second, dropped her, swearing.  
  
"She bit me!" he exclaimed, glaring at Nancy. Liz had scrambled up from the ground and ran towards Michael, who stood in front of her protectively. Nancy looked hurt.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, Lizzie. This is Mommy."  
  
Liz was silent, glaring at her mother.  
  
"Don't you want to come with me? To get away from your father? If you come with us, he won't be able to hurt you again." Tears filled her eyes. "Just come get in the car, baby. We'll drive away and never come back."  
  
Michael looked at Liz, who was looking at him cynically. She looked up at her mother and took a step backwards. Michael followed, keeping her close. Nancy nodded, wiping at her eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, baby," she said, turning to leave. Rob glared at them and followed, and they got into the car.  
  
Michael and Liz watched the car drive away, glinting in the sunlight. 


	8. 8

Author: Katydidit/PolarEmeralds/Me! (tee hee!)  
  
Email: NobodysFool2507yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst (not so much angst...shrug Maybe)  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...though maybe Dreamers are forming an alliance against me? Nah...that'd be too much to hope for. :P)  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
A/N: By the time I post this, I'll be out of school. Good thing: I'll be out of school. Bad thing: One of the reasons I get up in the morning is so I can go to school to see this guy that I reallyreallyreally like. But no school=no guy. sigh I'll pour all my angst into this story, I guess. Bwahahahahahahaha! Lmao. Or...not. Also, I looked it up. The form of 'articulate' I should have used is 'articulateness', but 'articularity' just sounds so much better. And it fits better in the story. So deal with it. Also, can anyone help? I made an image I'd like to show in my signature thing, but it won't show up (hence the damn red x). Which set of code do you use-the HTML or...the other one we can use on here? There's this one scene where it seems like all the kids are on E or Speed or some combination of the two, but I just spent half an hour at this psycho website I've just found, and...well, it's psycho.  
  
Credits: Okay. The song Liz sings is not Alex's, and it does not belong to Jason Katims, etc. It was performed (and written, I assume) by Something Corporate. Read on, lovely readers.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter Eight (OMG! does the eighth-chapter dance)  
  
The two of them stood there for a while after the car had vanished around a corner, Liz carefully cradling her side. Michael turned to her.  
  
"Why'd you stay?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You could have gotten into that car with your mother and driven away from your father and been safe. Why did you stay?"  
  
She looked at him in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Didn't you see that guy? He was scary." She winced. "And none too gentle..."  
  
"But she's your mother."  
  
Liz's eyes lost their warmth. "She stopped being my mother the night she drove off." Her voice sounded hollow, with just enough of a tremor to betray her tears. Liz Parker wasn't supposed to sound like that. Michael put his arm around her. She stood stiffly under his touch for a second, but then he felt her half-collapse and wrap her arms around his waist, crying quietly into his chest. He didn't know how much solace she could find in him, but he gave her what he could, holding her tightly to his body, though careful not to hurt her. After a while, she stirred, and he reluctantly loosened his grip. He felt like he could have stood like that forever. She wiped her eyes on the bottom of her shirt, avoiding his eyes.  
  
"I did it again," she said in self-derision. "That must make you pretty damn uncomfortable." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry."  
  
He cleared his throat. "Ah, no... No problem. It-I... It's..." Speak, you fool! He shouted at himself. Before she thinks she's right. "I'm...not uncomfortable."  
  
She smiled at him through her lashes-though because of what he'd said or at his stunning display of articularity, he didn't know. He reached up to tenderly rub at a teartrail she'd missed, and she dropped her eyes.  
  
"So you're sure you're okay, then?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Geez. You break down into hysterics two times and suddenly you're a china doll."  
  
"I dunno. You've got the complexion down."  
  
She made a face at him and tagged his arm, darting away. He rolled his eyes and gave chase, not even using his powers once.  
  
Later in the afternoon, the two of them were still chasing each other around the park, though their game of tag had morphed into hide and seek. Just when Michael was sure he'd found Liz, Max ran up to him, panting, still wearing his suit.  
  
"Michael, where's Liz?" he huffed, doubling over.  
  
"That's what I'm trying to find out. Why?"  
  
"Her mom's at my house."  
  
Liz stumbled out of the bush, and Michael whooped triumphantly. "I knew you were in there! Wait. Her mom's at your house? Why?"  
  
Max shrugged. "She wants to talk to Liz."  
  
Liz was pale, but shrugged, and they all ran to the Evanses' house, where four people were standing on the porch. They slowed down, and poor Max looked about ready to drop. The adults headed down, and Liz stepped away from that Rob character, who was clenching the hand she'd bitten.  
  
"How hard did you bite him?" Michael whispered. She shrugged, looking sick.  
  
"I think I may have tasted blood."  
  
"Your mother would like to talk to you in private," the guy said coldly. Liz looked at him like 'who in holy hell do you think you are' and turned to her mother.  
  
"What you have to say to me, you can say in front of everyone here." She lowered her voice so that only her mother, Michael, and the guy could hear her. "Anyway, how do I know you won't try to shove me in the car?"  
  
Nancy tsk-tsked. "Lizzie, you need to come with me," she pleaded, getting to her knees. "A little girl needs her mommy."  
  
"I'm not a little girl."  
  
"You're right. I'm sorry. But a girl needs her mother-another woman. Who are you going to go to when you get your period? Your father?" She laughed slightly, as though this were funny.  
  
"Mrs. Evans."  
  
"Honey, Diane has enough on her hands without another little-I'm sorry- without another daughter in the house." She laughed.  
  
"No, Mom. I went to Mrs. Evans."  
  
Nancy's face fell. "When?"  
  
"Last night. You just missed it." A sardonic smile flickered across Liz's darkened features.  
  
"Oh. But you still need me-Girls need their mothers."  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Elizabeth, listen to me-" She reached out and took Liz's hand in her own, standing up.  
  
"No, Mom. You listen to me!" Liz shouted, yanking her arm violently away. "The only things you've ever given me are band-aids and empty promises! What makes you think that I'm going to leave the people I love, just to go with you until you decide that you can't take this guy anymore and you run off again? What the hell gives you the right to ask me to do that?"  
  
Nancy's face turned red with anger. "I am your mother, young lady."  
  
"You're not my mother!" Liz screamed, rage distorting her sweet voice. "You're just some woman who happened to live with me for thirteen years and then ran off with some guy who isn't my father!"  
  
Nancy's face went pale, and she reached out and slapped Liz. Liz just stood there, eyes glittering angrily. Nancy realized what she'd done and reached out to touch Liz's cheek, which was turning pink with her handprint. Liz stepped back, glaring silently at her.  
  
"Lizzie, baby, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me..." Nancy again tried to touch her daughter, but Liz knocked her hand away.  
  
"Don't ever touch me again. Get in the car with your boyfriend, leave Roswell, and never come back. I will not come with you. I am not your daughter. Do not even try to speak to me," Liz said softly but menacingly. Even Michael was intimidated, but Nancy, eyes turned unreadable, nodded and turned. Rob tried to stare Liz down, but dropped his gaze first and got into the car. No one spoke, even after the car had once more disappeared. Michael noticed that Liz was trembling-probably from the adrenaline coursing through her body. He put his hands on her shoulders and tried his best to rub the tension out. She relaxed slightly and then stepped out of his grasp.  
  
"Liz, honey..." Diane began. "What was that about?"  
  
Liz shrugged and scuffed her shoe in the dirt.  
  
"Where did your mother want to take you? And who was that man?"  
  
"I don't know. I...don't know." She sighed helplessly. The remaining adults said nothing, but seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes. They then went inside, and Liz watched them nervously but resignedly, sinking into a sitting position in the grass. Michael sat on one side of her; Max on the other, and they sat there for a while, until Liz yawned squeakily, then laughed.  
  
"Yelling at a former parental unit takes a lot out of you," she said with a smile. Michael laughed and rubbed her back. Max was still in his shocked silence, and Liz poked him in the leg.  
  
"What's wrong, Evans?" She asked. He shook his head.  
  
"Nothing. Just thinking."  
  
"Well, don't strain yourself." She smiled kindly, so he'd know she was kidding, and he rolled his eyes and looked away. Michael snaked his arm up around Liz's neck in a sort of hug, then left it there. Mr. Parker's car drove up, parking where the other one had been just minutes ago, and Geoff stepped out. Liz immediately shrugged Michael's arm off her shoulder and stood up.  
  
"Elizabeth, are you ready?" he asked, regarding the boys coldly.  
  
"I just need to get my bag," Liz said quietly.  
  
"Let's go get it. I need to talk to the Evanses."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
They went into the house, Liz not even looking at the two of them. A few minutes later, they reappeared in the door, Geoff leading Liz to the car.  
  
"Bye," Max called. Liz looked up, smiling worriedly, as she got into the passenger seat.  
  
The next day, Michael didn't see Liz until lunch, where she was sitting with Alex. Even from across the courtyard, he could tell her father had done something to her last night. He headed over, Max in tow.  
  
"What happened?" he asked. Alex had his arm around her protectively. "And don't lie to me."  
  
Liz sighed, but then smiled wryly. "I don't want to tell you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I don't."  
  
"You-"  
  
"Michael, I'm fine. It was just the usual."  
  
He glared at her, but let it go, and they ate their lunch.  
  
When school was over, Liz quickly headed out of the room. Michael followed.  
  
"Why don't you want to tell me?" he asked. She glared at her locker as she opened it and put her books inside.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Yeah it does. Didn't we agree-no lies?"  
  
"First off, this isn't a lie, Michael. I really don't want to tell you. Second, when did you become a control freak?"  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A control freak. I didn't stutter, did I? All these 'rules' for me?"  
  
"For?—Liz, they're for both of us. We both agreed, no lies and no pity. That's not being controlling."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"So tell me."  
  
Liz rolled her eyes and went to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and spun her back. She tried to yank away, glaring at him.  
  
"Don't touch me like that," she said levelly. He let her go.  
  
"Sorry. Just tell me."  
  
Liz waited for the last few kids in the hallway to pass them, then turned towards him. "Last night, when Dad saw me sitting between you and Max, with your arm around me, he got the wrong idea."  
  
"He thought-"  
  
"Yeah. We got home and he made it quite clear that if I were ever to—whatever...well, I just wouldn't."  
  
"What'd he do?"  
  
"I'd rather forget about it." She shuddered, and went to leave again. Again, he grabbed her arm. She spun around and swung a fist at him, but he ducked it.  
  
"Sorry. Liz, your dad didn't-he didn't..."  
  
"Didn't what?" Her eyes were challenging.  
  
"He didn't..." He cleared his throat. "...You know... Um... Touch you...in that way?"  
  
Liz snorted. "Please, Michael." She shook her head in disbelief. "You're such a drama queen."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are so."  
  
"Then what'd he do?"  
  
"Just made it quite obvious that he doesn't like the idea that I'm growing up."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah. It wasn't bad this time. I'm fine."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
She looked at him blankly. "Would you prefer it if I fainted?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I gotta get home."  
  
"Okay. See you."  
  
That night, Michael went to bed far earlier that any sane person would. There was just nothing else to do, and, quickly growing irritated with the feeling of listlessness that was taking over, Michael sought the only escape-and was quickly snoring on his bed, his arms wrapped around his pillow.  
  
But it wasn't to last. Around midnight, a loud banging sound woke him up. Hank. Michael tried to pretend he was asleep, but it just wasn't going to happen. Hank stumbled into Michael's bedroom and flipped the overhead light on.  
  
"Get up, boy," he slurred, yanking the covers away. Michael obeyed, standing in front of the man.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know 'what'."  
  
"No I don't."  
  
"Don't lie to me, boy." Hank took a swing at him, and, though he'd been able to duck Liz's fist, Hank's hit him right across the jawbone. Michael stumbled backwards, and the man advanced, pinning him against the edge of the bed. "I'm sick of all your lies!" the drunkard roared, hitting him with each word. Michael tried to cringe away, but he could only get so far, so after a while he had no other choice but to wait until his foster father grew bored or passed out, whichever came first.  
  
Turns out the man had better things to do, because after a few minutes of wailing on the boy, he left the trailer with a bang. Michael forced himself to stand up and go into the kitchen. He filled a plastic baggie (the last one) with a few ice cubes (the last ones) and pressed it to his face, stumbling back into his room.  
  
When he woke up the next morning, his face wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be, but it still looked awful. He groaned and looked away from the mirror, stumbling into his room to get dressed for school.  
  
Dammit. He was too late to make it to Max and Isabel's house. Great. Maybe he could catch him before class started. He headed out, grimacing as he caught one more sight of himself in a mirror.  
  
At school, the hallways were empty. He was late. Yay. He snuck over to the door of the classroom that he knew Max was in, and peered in through the window. Liz was resting her chin in her hand and doodling boredly, but almost immediately, she looked up, and at Michael. Her eyes widened, and he gestured towards Max, who was sitting next to her, taking notes like a good little student. Liz kicked him, and he jerked his head up. She pointed towards the door, and Max looked up. It looked like he was then trying to get permission to...probably use the bathroom, and he was finally released.  
  
"What happened?" Max asked incredulously. Duh, hi Max. Welcome to the world. Max smacked his forehead. "Nevermind. Come on."  
  
They went into the bathroom, where Max fixed Michael's face. Michael really had no desire to class, so he leaned against the sink.  
  
"Since when do you sit next to Liz?"  
  
Max flushed scarlet. "We got new seats today."  
  
"And of course you had no influence over the teacher's list?"  
  
Max looked scandalized. "I don't-you-I-"  
  
"Calm down, Maxwell, I was kidding."  
  
"I should go back to class now."  
  
"Because quadratic equations are so riveting?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then because you're sitting next to Liz?"  
  
More blushing. "No!"  
  
Michael snorted. "I was kidding, man. Go on."  
  
"You should go too."  
  
"I've got English. I'll go, Dad."  
  
Max made a face and left, and Michael reluctantly headed to class.  
  
After classes, Liz and Michael were, once again, two of the only people left in the hallway. Isabel had some dance thing, so of course Max the devoted little brother went. Liz swung her backpack over her shoulder just as Michael slammed his locker shut, and she turned around.  
  
"Hey, your face-" she began.  
  
"Yeah, no photos please. Would you like an autograph, though?"  
  
"Ha ha. No. What-it was..." She shook her head. "You heal faster than I do."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Alex ran up to them. "Hey Liz, you ready?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What're you two doing?"  
  
"It's his band's third practice."  
  
"Um. Congratulations?"  
  
"Thanks. Come on, Liz. I can't be late."  
  
"Yeah yeah yeah. Bye, Michael."  
  
And Alex whisked them away down the hall.  
  
The next day, a while after school, Max dragged Michael to the Crashdown. The restaurant was empty, and Liz was twirling around, singing once again.  
  
"Maybe when the room is empty,  
  
Maybe when the bottle's full,  
  
Maybe when the door gets broke down love can break in.  
  
Maybe when I'm done with thinking,  
  
Maybe you can think me whole,  
  
Maybe when I'm done with endings this can begin.  
  
This can begin, this can begin...  
  
If you could be my punk rock princess,  
  
I would be your garage band king.  
  
You could tell me why you just don't fit in,  
  
And how you're going to be something.  
  
Maybe when your hair gets darker,  
  
Maybe when your eyes get wide,  
  
Maybe when the walls are smaller there will be more... space,  
  
Maybe when I'm not so tired,  
  
Maybe you can step inside,  
  
Maybe when the look for things that I cant replace.  
  
I cant replace, I cant replace...  
  
If you could be my punk rock princess,  
  
I would be your garage band king.  
  
You could tell me why you just don't fit in,  
  
And how you're going to be something.  
  
If I could be your first real heartache,  
  
I would do it over again!  
  
If you could be my punk rock princess,  
  
I would be your heroine.  
  
I never thought you'd last,  
  
I never dreamed you would,  
  
You watched your life go past,  
  
You wonder if you should!  
  
Now you should be my punk rock princess,  
  
I would be your garage band king.  
  
You could tell me why you just don't fit in,  
  
And how you're gonna be something.  
  
If I could be your first real heartache,  
  
I would do it over again!  
  
If you could be my punk rock princess,  
  
I would be your heroine.  
  
Whoa oooh, you know,  
  
You only burn my bridges  
  
Whoa oooh, you know,  
  
You just cant let it sink in...  
  
You could be my heroine,  
  
You could be my heroine!!!!" She gave a final twirl and tossed the rag she was using to wipe down the tables at the counter, then turned around to see the boys. She turned pink, but then bowed. "I should really know better by now, huh?" she asked sheepishly. Michael snorted.  
  
"What song was that?" Max asked.  
  
"Um. Punk Rock Princess. Alex's band was playing it last night. He wrote it." She twirled once more and gave a little curtsey. "For me, he said." She laughed. "But I think it's actually for a certain blonde-haired girl we know."  
  
"Maria?" Michael asked, pretending to be confused. As if on cue, said blonde-haired girl came grumbling into the restaurant, pushing her bobber- antennae things up onto her head.  
  
"Liz, I swear to every god who has ever walked this earth or has yet to walk this earth that I am going to kill your boyfriend!"  
  
"What'd he do now, Maria? And he's not my boyfriend."  
  
"He and his stupid friends were making fun of my uniform." She stomped behind the counter. Michael slid onto the counter and flicked at her antennae.  
  
"Because there's nothing to make fun of, is there?" he taunted. She grabbed at his finger, but missed.  
  
"Don't mess with me, Spikeboy." She growled. He held his hands up in surrender and slid off the counter.  
  
"So Alex wrote a song for you?" Max asked, trying very hard not to sound jealous. Liz laughed and twirled again.  
  
"Yeah. Or that's his story, anyway."  
  
"Wait. Alex wrote a song for you, Liz?" Maria asked.  
  
"He says he did. I think it's for Isabel."  
  
"That's awesome! Which one?"  
  
"Punk Rock Princess. Hand me that rag, please?"  
  
"Cool. He never wrote one for me..." She pretended to pout. Michael grabbed Liz's hand and spun her, not that she needed any help.  
  
"You're just not special, DePuke-uh." He said, making a face. Liz groaned, as did Maria.  
  
"God, Michael. Be a little more unoriginal, 'kay?" Liz said, putting the towel on his head. He grimaced and pulled it off, placing it carefully on her head.  
  
"Excuse you?"  
  
"Oh, just that everyone and his pet iguana calls her that."  
  
"Hey!" Maria exclaimed. "Not everyone!"  
  
"Okay, Maria," Liz said, dancing out of Michael's grip. "Whatever you say."  
  
"Shut up... Parking...Lot."  
  
They stood silent for a few minutes, in awe of Maria's stunning display of her lack of the insult gene, until some customers came in and Liz had to get to work.  
  
Finally the last customer left, and Liz seemingly collapsed onto a chair with a sigh. Michael once more slid onto the counter, after turning on the radio to a station playing Metallica. Maria, half-lying on a table, lifted her wrist in the direction of the radio.  
  
"Find a good station, SpikeBoy."  
  
"Just did, DePuke-uh."  
  
Liz motioned for him to lean closer. He did, and she cuffed him one on the head.  
  
"Hey!" He exclaimed indignantly. It hadn't hurt, but still.  
  
"Find a good insult, 'SpikeBoy,'" Liz said, making a face at him. He rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, did the little Lizzy-wizzy hurt little Mikey-wikey?" Max cooed, standing next to the two of them. Liz snorted, and Michael glared at them.  
  
"Just be glad you're a girl, Parker. I can't hit girls..."  
  
"Didn't stop me," Liz shot back.  
  
"Bite me, Parker."  
  
"I've already eaten."  
  
He smirked at her, and she giggled. Mr. Parker strode into the restaurant, and Liz was on her feet immediately.  
  
"I'm going out for the night," Geoff told her brusquely. "You can close down?"  
  
"Yes. Goodbye."  
  
He nodded and was gone. As soon as his car left, Liz fell back onto the stool. Maria stood.  
  
"Liz, can I go home? I'll be back for dinner, but I really really want to see my mom."  
  
Something flashed across Liz's face, but she smiled and nodded. "Go on."  
  
Maria leapt to her feet. "Thanks. You're my bestest friend." Liz grinned, and Maria disappeared, nearly running right into the Evanses, who entered, looking amused.  
  
"I thought we might find you here, Max," Phillip said. Max flushed and shrugged, joining his family. "You up for an early dinner?"  
  
"I could eat."  
  
"There's no question as to whether you could eat, Max. You're a boy," Liz teased. He made a face at her, and she grinned.  
  
"Michael, you want to eat with us?" "Nah. Not hungry."  
  
"Okay. Then Liz, would you mind getting us four of the usuals?"  
  
"Nope. Anything to drink?  
  
"Same thing we usually get."  
  
"Creatures of habit," Liz murmured with a smile, and then went into the kitchen to hand Jose (Michael had forgotten he was there) the order. Eventually, they had everything they'd ordered, and Liz went to sit at the counter. Michael, of course, followed. Neither of them felt compelled to speak (Michael liked that about Liz-she wasn't afraid of silence), and they just sort of sat side by side until the Evanses had finished their dinner and Liz had to get up to clear the table. Max kind of smiled at her as he left, and she smiled back, then went back to busying herself with the dishes. She turned towards the kitchen, and it quickly became obvious that she'd been a tad too ambitious. One of the plates she was carrying began teetering on top of the pile, and Michael leapt up to steady it. He was rewarded with one of her grins as she pushed into the kitchen.  
  
Then it was closing time, and Liz gently ushered him into the night.  
  
"See you tomorrow, Michael," she said, standing in the doorway and flipping the sign to 'Closed'.  
  
"Tomorrow," he agreed, and headed back to the trailer park. 


	9. 9

Author: Katydidit/PolarEmeralds  
  
Email:   
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst (not so much angst...shrug Maybe)  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...though maybe Dreamers are forming an alliance against me? Nah...that'd be too much to hope for. :P)  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna.  
  
A/N: This is short, but—ahem—action-packed.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter 9  
  
A few days went by without further incident, until one day, when he and the Evanses were eating dinner in the Crashdown.  
  
It had started out normally enough-it was a Friday, they went in, chatted with Liz, ordered their usuals, and then waited for her to return with their food. As usual, Michael stayed behind after they had left, and helped Liz clear their table. They didn't speak until they were finished, and the two of them were sitting at the counter.  
  
"So what's up?" Michael asked, cringing even as the words left his mouth. He hated that phrase. Liz laughed.  
  
"Dad got something in the mail yesterday-from the courts or something. He didn't let me read it, but I snuck into his office last night."  
  
Michael laughed at the mental image of Liz clad in all black, sneaking around a corner and tiptoeing into the room. She glared at him, and continued.  
  
"It was about Mom. She gave up custody of me."  
  
Michael was silent as that sank in. "Well, at least now she can't try to get you to come with her."  
  
Liz shrugged, and Michael leaned down to look into her eyes, from which tears were threatening to spill. She scoffed and swiped at her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"It...just kind of hurts that she gave up on me so easily. That she decided to quit on us so she could go start over."  
  
Michael nodded and hesitantly pulled her in for a hug. She laughed but returned the hug, then pulled away.  
  
"I've gotta close now," she said reluctantly.  
  
"You always say that," he whined, but stood and headed for the door. "See you, Parker."  
  
"See you, Michael."  
  
He approached his trailer hesitantly. Something was wrong. He entered silently, dreading what he'd find. Hank was sitting there in his underwear, with football blaring on the television.  
  
"Where the hell have you been, boy?" Hank growled, pronouncing each word perfectly. He wasn't drunk. Great. Well, at least he was only a jerk when he was sober-not violent.  
  
"With a friend," Michael said quietly. He didn't mean to be elusive, but he just wanted to get into his room.  
  
"What friend?" He demanded.  
  
"Just a girl I know."  
  
Hank muted the game and leered at him. "Is little Mickey already fucking? How old are you? Fifteen?"  
  
Michael felt his face redden. "Thirteen. And I'm not...fucking." He had to fight to get that last word out-thinking about Liz and saying it was...disrespectful, somehow.  
  
"Oh. Too bad." Hank turned back around, looking semi-disappointed. Michael let out a sigh of relief, and headed to his room. Before he left the room, however, Hank called over his shoulder. "I don't want you going anywhere tomorrow until this place is cleaned up."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I fucking said so."  
  
Michael had to clench his fist several times to prevent himself from letting loose his energy on Hank, although he had to admit that the thought of slamming him against the wall was quite tempting. "Will you be here?"  
  
"You're kidding me, right? Stupid kid. I'll be out all day. Now get outta here. Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?"  
  
Michael rolled his eyes and left the scumbag in the ratty old chair to bellow at the television and scratch himself.  
  
The next day, Michael decided to listen to Hank. When he was out all day, he was at the bar. And therefore he'd be drunk. And therefore violent. So Michael put on one of his old Metallica CDs and went around, trying to make the craphole look 'clean'. After many, many hours, Michael put down the rag he'd been using and let out a string of curse words, just to clear his head. The trailer was as clean as a place with dirt literally embedded into the walls could be. He looked at his watch. Holy shit, it was eleven o'clock.  
  
"I can't believe I wasted an entire day cleaning up this shithole!" Michael yelled, kicking at the chair his foster father had been sitting in. He slid his shoes on and headed out the door. Maybe Liz was still at the Crashdown...they stayed open late on Saturdays, anyway.  
  
Weird. The lights were on in the Crashdown, but he didn't see Liz. Figuring she must be in the kitchen, Michael headed through, so focused on finding her that he tripped over something. He looked down.  
  
There lie Liz's small form, black and blue and curled into a fetal position. Michael swore a few times and leapt up to see if Mr. Parker's car was outside. Of course not. So he'd done it. Michael knelt down next to her, rolling her onto her back.  
  
"Liz!" he yelled, checking for signs of life. She had a pulse, and her chest was moving, so she wasn't dead-Michael thanked whatever gods that existed for that-but she looked awful. He swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. "Liz?" he asked more quietly, stroking her face.  
  
"Michael?" she asked tearily, trying to open her eyes. She managed to get them halfway open before they shut again.  
  
"What did he do?" Michael demanded.  
  
"The hell does it look like he did?" Liz whispered, annoyance and pain more than evident in her voice. "He was in his office, going over the books, and I dropped a goddamned plate, and he came in here..." She whimpered, trying to curl tighter around herself.  
  
"Liz!" Michael yelled.  
  
"What?" she demanded.  
  
"Don't go to sleep, okay?" He begged. "Just don't."  
  
"I'm so tired, Michael," she pleaded.  
  
"I know. But don't."  
  
"I'll try," she promised quietly. Michael picked her up, cradling her easily in his arms. She slid her arms up around his neck to keep from falling, and he carried her to the door. "Where are we going?" she asked, sounding far away.  
  
"I'm taking you to get help," he said.  
  
"Not the hospital." she entreated.  
  
"No," he promise, then bent to kiss her forehead. "Stay awake for me. Keep your eyes open."  
  
She nodded, and he carried her the rest of the way to the Evanses' house in silence. He banged on the door as best as he could, until he heard someone fumbling with the lock. The door swung open, once more revealing a sleepy Max. He saw Liz and paled, then stood aside.  
  
"Max, you have to heal her. Please. Forget what I said before. Just...please. Make her better," Michael begged, once more laying Liz carefully on the couch. She moaned but was still.  
  
"What happened?" Max asked, kneeling next to her.  
  
"What the hell do you think happened? Please."  
  
Max nodded, placing his hands on either side of Liz's stomach. "Liz," Max murmured. "Liz, look at me." She didn't move, and Michael knelt next to Max.  
  
"Dammit!" he whispered. "She passed out."  
  
"Michael," Max began, dread dripping from his words. "I can't heal unless I can make eye contact.  
  
"Then what do we do?" Michael demanded frantically. Before either of them could say anything else, they heard a shuffling sound in the hallway.  
  
"Michael, honey, we love you, and we don't mind you staying over, but you need to be quiet..." Diane said, approaching them. She trailed off and froze in her tracks when she saw the pale figure on her couch. "Phillip!"  
  
"What?" he grumbled, stepping into the room and wiping sleep from his eyes. "I have to get up early tomorrow-why is it so hard for you people to let me just sleep?" He looked up from his griping and saw Liz. "What happened? Michael?"  
  
"I went to the Crashdown and found her like this."  
  
Phillip knelt, examining Liz. "I mean, what happened to her?"  
  
"I don't know-"  
  
"Michael, cut the crap. Whatever promise you made to this girl, you have to break it if you want to save her. What happened to her tonight?"  
  
Michael shifted. "Her dad was-knocking her around. She didn't tell me anything specific."  
  
Phillip slid his hand under her shirt, prodding her ribcage. Michael winced for her, even though she probably didn't feel anything.  
  
"Who am I trying to kid? I'm no doctor." He gathered her into his arms, standing and heading to the door. Mrs. Evans, Max, and Michael followed.  
  
"Where are you going?" Max asked.  
  
"I'm taking her to the hospital."  
  
"You can't!" Michael exclaimed.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"She said-"  
  
"I don't care what the flying fuck she said, Michael. She's hurt, she's a little girl, and she's going to the hospital. You three stay here."  
  
Max nodded, but Michael stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not staying here."  
  
Phillip nodded. "I should have known better. Go open the car door for me. Get into the backseat."  
  
Michael obeyed, and Phillip slid Liz into the back with him, putting her head into his lap.  
  
"You got her?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's go." 


	10. 10

Author: Katydidit/PolarEmeralds  
  
Email:   
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre:Drama/Angst (not so much angst...shrug Maybe)  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...though maybe Dreamers are forming an alliance against me? Nah...that'd be too much to hope for. )  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter Ten  
  
Michael had never known why people didn't like hospitals-he'd been in a few, and the smell wasn't that bad...it wasn't too creepy. But now, slouching in the uncomfortable chair whose padding had long ago been worn out by hundreds of people sitting and waiting, just like he was, Michael understood. It seemed like it'd been forever since he'd watched the nurses load Liz onto a stretcher and push her through those doors, and no one had come out. It was like the building had swallowed her up without so much as a burp. Phillip shifted in the seat next to him.  
  
"I know you're worried, son, but she's safe here. Safer here than at home... I never should have let Diane talk me into waiting-not when a little girl's life hung in the balance." He trailed off in self-loathing. Michael said nothing. He was dead tired, but just as his eyelids would slide closed, another shot of adrenaline would rush through his veins, and he'd jerk awake. A doctor in the usual white coat approached them.  
  
"You brought Elizabeth Parker?" he asked, staring at them from over his glasses. Mr. Evans nodded.  
  
"Is she okay? What happened?" Michael demanded. He had no time for the usual waiting room small-talk.  
  
"We believe that her episode was caused largely by moderate internal bleeding and shock."  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"She should be fine. We've got a blood transfusion going, and she is fully awake now, so if you want to see her, come with me."  
  
Mr. Evans followed, but Michael hung back. The two men paused.  
  
"I...she won't want to see me. I swore to her that I wouldn't tell."  
  
"Of course she will, Michael. You-"  
  
"Michael?" The doctor started forward. "You're Michael?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Oh, trust me, son. She wants to see you."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"She was crying for a Michael when she woke up."  
  
"See? Mr. Evans said, nudging him forward. "I told you. Come on."  
  
They continued down the hall, to a small room. Liz was sitting up weakly in the bed, and when she saw them, she looked down at her hands, avoiding their eyes.  
  
The doctor clasped Michael on the shoulder and exited. Mr. Evans left as well... Michael figured he realized that he'd be doing enough talking soon enough-might as well let the two of them talk. Michael pulled a chair over.  
  
"Liz, I'm sorry. I lied to you. I told you I wouldn't tell, and then I did."  
  
She was silent. "I'm not stupid, even though I act like it sometimes... If you hadn't told, I'd probably be in a lot of trouble right now..."  
  
He shrugged. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Sore." She shifted. "Tired. I have a headache."  
  
"That all comes with emptying your blood supply into your body, I guess," Michael said with a little smile. Liz scoffed.  
  
"Yeah... What do you think is going to happen?" her voice shook, and Michael reached out and took her hand, mindful of the IV.  
  
"You'll go somewhere safe. Where your father can't get to you."  
  
"Away from here..." Liz said fearfully.  
  
"No. Not away from here. I won't let that happen. Neither will the Evanses."  
  
"So both of them know." Liz shifted again.  
  
"What'd you expect?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"You scared the crap outta Max, though. Thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head." He grinned, and she laughed at the mental image.  
  
"Poor Max."  
  
He held her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her skin where the needle was sticking out.  
  
"Poor Liz."  
  
"Not poor Liz. No pity, remember?"  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
They were silent for another few minutes, and then Liz spoke up again, her voice shaking.  
  
"I don't want to leave here, Michael," she whispered. He climbed up into the bed with her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She put her head on his chest, and the last thing Michael remembered hearing was Mr. Evans convincing the doctors to let him stay.  
  
The next morning, Michael was awakened by a nurse dropping her clipboard. He felt Liz jump next to him, and they both peered at her through sleepy eyes.  
  
"Sorry... I didn't mean to wake you. You two looked so cute."  
  
Liz sat up. "When can I go home?"  
  
"You'll have to ask the doctor, honey. But do you want me to take that IV out? It looks like it's done."  
  
"Yes, please," Liz said, holding out her arm. The nurse laughed and turned the machine off, then donned a pair of rubber gloves and carefully pulled the needle out. Liz groaned and hid her face in Michael's chest. Michael and the nurse laughed.  
  
"Did that hurt?" she asked.  
  
"No..." Liz said, peeking to make sure the nurse was done. "What time is it?"  
  
"Seven. Are you ready for breakfast?"  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"You need to eat," Michael said.  
  
"Listen to him, Elizabeth. Your body is trying to heal itself-it needs food."  
  
Liz sighed. "Fine."  
  
"Good girl. I'll go get a tray. I'll bring you one, too, if you promise not to tell on me."  
  
"I won't," Michael said with a grin. The nurse left, and Mr. Evans entered.  
  
"'Morning, guys. How are you feeling, Liz?"  
  
"Fine. When am I going home?"  
  
He looked uncomfortable. "Liz, I spoke to a social worker this morning. You're not going back to your father. You'll stay with us tonight, and tomorrow...well...these people work fast..." He looked down at the floor.  
  
"What's happening tomorrow?" Liz asked, dread entering her voice.  
  
"Tomorrow, you'll be going to a foster home. Just until the hearing, which shouldn't take more than a few months, and after that, we can work something out..."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"It was the closest place we could find..."  
  
"Where?" she repeated.  
  
"Clovis."  
  
Liz was silent, and the nurse returned with two trays. Liz mostly picked at hers, dutifully taking a bite every now and then. Michael left his untouched-he was trying to figure out a way to keep her here.  
  
Later that night, Mr. Evans brought Liz and Michael home. Max stood apart, studying his feet.  
  
"Hi, Liz. How are you?" he asked quietly.  
  
"That's it?" Mr. Evans asked. "You're not going to give her a hug, or welcome her back, or gripe about her not being able to be without us? Just 'Hi Liz, how are you?' That's weak, Max."  
  
Max turned red and took a step forward, carefully wrapping his arms around her. Mrs. Evans came in, her eyes full of pity.  
  
"How are you, Liz" she asked quietly.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you." She went to step away, but Max was still holding her. She smiled tearily and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. When they finally let go, Liz was sniffling, and Max was confused.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, brushing his finger against her cheek. She laughed sadly and wiped her eyes.  
  
"Nothing..."  
  
"She's leaving tomorrow," Mr. Evans said. Max looked shocked.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"She's not going to go back to her father..." He shrugged. "That's what the law does...butts in where it isn't needed. Come on, Diane. Let's leave them alone..."  
  
The adults left the room, and Isabel entered. Once they'd told her the whole story, the four of them remained sitting there, silent, until Diane called them for dinner, where there was more silence.  
  
After a while of laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, Michael kicked his way out of the sleeping bag and looked over at Max, who was in a fitful doze. Quietly, he made his way to the living room, to-to what? To talk to Liz? She was probably dead tired. To look at her? It'd just make him feel worse. He went anyway, and when he approached the sofa, it was empty. His heart skipped a beat, but then he looked out the window and saw Liz sitting in the yard, looking at the stars. He quietly went outside and sat with her in the silent night air.  
  
"I'm not coming back," Liz said grimly.  
  
"The Evanses will figure out a way to bring you back..."  
  
"Let's not kid ourselves, Michael. I'm going to get into whatever car they bring to take me away, and I'll never see any of you ever again." Her voice broke, and she pulled her knees tighter against her body. "Maria and Alex will be in school...I won't even get to say goodbye."  
  
Michael didn't know what to say, but then he remembered something he'd seen on TV or read in a book or something, and reached into his back pocket, retrieving his pocket knife.  
  
"Can I do something?" He asked, taking her hand. She nodded miserably. As she watched, he pressed the blade against the tender flesh of her upper palm-just under her four fingers-and drew it across. Blood immediately sprung to the surface, and, had he not been holding tightly to her hand, Liz would have jerked away.  
  
"What'd you do that for?" she demanded. He didn't answer, but slashed his hand in the exact same spot, then clasped her hand with his. They stayed like this for a while, blood mingling. Too late Michael realized what he'd done-that he didn't know what his non-human blood could do to her. Or maybe hers would do something to him. Either way, it was too late, he knew, and held her hand tighter. He didn't release her for at least half an hour-when he knew the bleeding must have stopped. Liz looked at her hand, then took Michael's hand and compared the two. He'd gotten the two cuts in exactly the same spot, and exactly the same length, he realized, looking at their hands through the dried blood.  
  
"We match," she murmured quietly, tracing his palm gently with her index finger. The sensation sent tingles up his spine. She sighed. "I'll never forget you... I could live forever, and still, you'd be right here in my head until my last nanosecond."  
  
"And after that?"  
  
She shrugged, and he put his arm around her.  
  
"I was kidding." She nodded and put her head on his chest. They stayed like this-not sleeping, not speaking, until sunrise, and Michael moved a little.  
  
"We should go inside, before they wake up and freak out."  
  
Liz laughed mirthlessly and stood stiffly, extending her hand. Michael took it, and they went inside. The rust-colored substance on his hand caught his eyes.  
  
"We should probably-" he gestured to her hand.  
  
"Right."  
  
So they went into the guest bathroom and silently washed their hands. The Evanses woke up, and the six of them sat down at the table for another wordless meal, after which, the phone rang. Diane answered it in hushed tones, spoke for a while, and then hung up.  
  
"They should be here in a little bit..." She said sadly.  
  
Liz leapt up. "My journal!"  
  
"What?" Everyone looked at her. Michael stood.  
  
"My journal-I can leave everything else, but I have to bring it."  
  
"You shouldn't go back to your house, Liz. What if your father is there?" Phillip said worriedly.  
  
"He's not. After he... he always leaves for a day. It's...like a ritual. He's out somewhere. I can go get it. I have to go get it."  
  
"I'm sure you can get another one when-" Max began, but Liz cut him off.  
  
"No. I have to have this one. This one, it's..." she trailed off, shrugging helplessly.  
  
"I'll go with her," Michael said.  
  
"I still don't like this..." Phillip said uneasily. "But I can't stop you. Be careful."  
  
Liz nodded, and she and Michael tore out of the house, running all the way to the Crashdown. Once there, she dashed up the stairs to her room, then stood in the center of it, glaring at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Close your eyes."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"So you don't see where I hide it."  
  
Michael didn't remind her that she'd probably never get to hide her journal in this room again, but closed his eyes. She fumbled around in several places, obviously trying to throw him off, and then returned to stand in front of him.  
  
"Okay. You can look now."  
  
She was standing there with a large, thick brown notebook tucked lovingly under one arm.  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
She looked once around the room, and nodded. "Let's go."  
  
When they returned to the Evanses', a black Jeep was sitting in front of the house. Liz looked at it silently, tears springing to her eyes. The Evanses, a man, and a woman stepped onto the porch, and Liz turned to him. He grabbed her, nearly crushing her in a bear hug. She returned it, and he felt the tremors running through her body.  
  
"I'll come back," she promised. "As soon as I can, I'll get out of there, and I'll come back."  
  
Michael nodded, unable to speak. She stepped away and picked up his hand- the one he'd slashed last night-and kissed the palm repeatedly.  
  
"Liz, honey," Mrs. Evans called. "Are you ready?"  
  
Liz scoffed. "Is she kidding?" She went up to them. "Mr. and Mrs. Evans, thank you...for letting me stay here...and for..." She trailed off. They nodded, tears running down Diane's face and Phillip's eyes glistening dangerously. Max and Isabel started forward simultaneously, folding her into a hug. Liz held on tightly, until the man cleared his throat. She then stepped back, nodding at the four of them, and followed the people to the Jeep.  
  
It drove off, and Michael stared after it until it disappeared around a corner.  
  
He'd never see her again, he knew. 


	11. 11

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat  
  
Email:   
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Now becoming full-blown Polar.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
AN: I must say, I have a new respect for the 'alien' cast of Roswell. I read somewhere that they actually used Tabasco sauce in their scenes. And this morning, curious, I dumped some Tabasco sauce in my Diet Coke. (Hey, I was bored, adventurous, and I really didn't want any more, okay?) I tried it...it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. The sauce made the cola taste flat (or it actually made it flat), and it made my stomach hurt for a few minutes. My lips burned too (like the time I dumped a bunch of Fire packets at Taco Bell onto a soft taco shell), but I kind of like that feeling. I know, I know. I'm psycho. Anyway, I'm willing to try this experiment again, only with less Tabasco. It might not be too bad. I've already discovered that the Tabasco makes many many many foods (especially mashed potatoes) much more interesting (and pink). nods  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter 11  
  
The rest of that day was a blur for Michael. He had long ago gotten fed up with the Evanses' attempts at any conversation even resembling normal and bolted. He found himself in the park once more. She'd been the only person he'd ever actually cared about, except for Max and Isabel, and some nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that she'd be the last. He punched a tree trunk and once more sank down among the splinters that had fallen. It looked like things had gone full circle—how long had it been since that night that he had first attacked this tree, and found out about Liz? It certainly hadn't been long. But it didn't matter. She was gone-and he'd probably never see her again.  
  
He was startled by a noise, and jerked his head up, half-expecting to see Liz's disheveled figure standing in front of him. But it was just Alex. He sighed and looked back down.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Alex asked. "Where's Liz?"  
  
"She's...gone," Michael said, finding the words nearly impossible to say. Alex sank down in front of him.  
  
"Gone. As in...?"  
  
"They took her away a few hours ago," Michael mumbled. "She wanted to say goodbye to you and Maria, but...school."  
  
Alex's face twisted. "Good for her," he said. His tone was sincere, but there was a note of regret. "Did she finally tell someone?"  
  
Ah, if only. But Michael didn't want Alex to worry, so he nodded, avoiding eye contact. Alex wasn't stupid, and sighed.  
  
"She didn't, did she? He got her so bad she had to go to the hospital."  
  
Michael nodded again.  
  
"God. Liz..." Alex was silent for a while. "You know, she was like my sister."  
  
"Yeah. I kind of figured. You two were always together."  
  
"I mean...more than that." There was a thoughtful pause, as though he were considering his next words very carefully. "I had a little sister, did you know that?"  
  
Michael shook his head.  
  
"I did. Her name was Claire, and she was four and a half years old. God, I loved her."  
  
"What happened to her?" Michael had a pretty good idea, judging from the pain in Alex's voice and written all over his face.  
  
"She...died when I was seven. Just before we moved here. We, uh...we were playing with a beach ball out in the front yard, and I rolled it too hard, so it went into the street. I was going to go get it, but...she somehow got there first. The driver didn't see her." He swallowed hard, and closed his eyes for a second. "As soon as we could, we moved away...from everything, and came here, just in time for the beginning of the school year. I didn't want to talk to anyone...hell, I don't think I even wanted to be alive. But Liz, she...I guess she understood that, because we didn't talk for at least two weeks—I mean, during our free time, we'd both be reading on the carpet, or drawing with the same crayons, but it was like she was waiting for me to decide that I wanted to talk. Then I did, and I got to know her. She was...almost exactly like Claire. You know—sweet and gentle, but still strong...independent. I think I sort of adopted her as a surrogate sister at first, and then, once I had sort of gotten past missing my sister, she became my friend. But for some reason, I couldn't get rid of that—you know, urge to take care of her. It pissed her off sometimes."  
  
Michael didn't know what you were supposed to say to that, so he just nodded. Alex tugged at his shoelace. "I'm really going to miss her."  
  
"Yeah. Me too," Michael said, looking at his cut-the one that matched Liz's.  
  
'But, hey... At least she got out, right?" Alex looked up. "I mean, her dad can't hurt her anymore. That's good."  
  
Michael shrugged, and Alex bent to look at his face. "Oh my gosh," Alex said, grinning in realization.  
  
"What?" He demanded.  
  
"Michael...you... loved her."  
  
"The hell are you talking about? We're thirteen!" Michael shouted, leaping to his feet. Alex followed.  
  
"You did-you do! Oh my god!" He laughed in disbelief.  
  
"I don't need this," Michael muttered, turning to leave.  
  
"Deny it!" Alex shouted at him as he left. "I dare you."  
  
Michael turned and stalked back to the boy. "We are thirteen years old. So even if love existed, there would be no fucking way for us to know what the hell it is."  
  
Alex shrugged and arched his eyebrow in challenge. "Deny it. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that she didn't make your stomach do acrobatics? That she didn't make you want to do crazy things? That you wouldn't give up your own life to protect hers?"  
  
Michael glared at him. It was true—all of them. But that didn't mean anything, did it? Except for the fact that he could stand her. Right? He realized that saying no would be completely disrespecting Liz and whatever they'd had, so he couldn't deny it. "I don't need this bullshit," Michael spat, and stalked off, heading towards home. The once-innocuous streets now seemed to be mocking him—laughing at him. He growled and picked up a rock, chucking it into the air and not sticking around to see where it fell.  
  
The next morning, Michael rolled reluctantly out of bed and pulled some clothes on, this time not even caring what they looked like. Hank wasn't there. Good thing. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the massive loads of crap that Hank was almost famous for dishing out. There was nothing in the cupboards, Michael knew, so he didn't bother trying to find something bearing some semblance to breakfast. He wasn't hungry, anyway. He hadn't meant to, but Michael found himself wondering what Liz would have for breakfast. Where would she be? Would she be waking up in a strange house, afraid for that second before memories of the day before came rushing back and she remembered where she was? His chest felt hollow, and he felt like punching himself for thinking about that. About her. It was done. She was gone, and he'd never see her again. So why think about it?  
  
He sighed and left, heading to Max's house. The conversations there would likely drive him up the wall, but at least they might keep him from thinking about that Jeep.  
  
He got to the Evanses' house and knocked on the door. It swung open, and Max was standing there with a blank look on his face. Michael pushed him aside.  
  
"Good morning, Michael. How are you today?" Michael said for Max. "Thanks, Max. I'm great. Can I come in?" "Of course, Michael. Come on in."  
  
Max just blinked at him. "Hi, Michael."  
  
"How are you, man?" he asked, flopping into a chair. Max looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all last night—there were dark smudgy circles under his eyes, and his hair was rumpled, as though he'd been tossing and turning. Max just shrugged and headed into his room. Michael followed, looking on while Max changed into clean clothes.  
  
"You need some?" Max asked, flinging a shirt and jeans at him. Michael grabbed them.  
  
"Why would I?"  
  
"Because what you're wearing...it reeks."  
  
Michael sniffed himself. "Oh, that? That's what the body is supposed to smell like, Maxwell."  
  
"I'm not going to be seen with you if you wear that to school today," Max said. Michael couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, so he rolled his eyes and changed. Isabel peeked her head in the door.  
  
"Max, Momma said to tell you that breakfast is ready. Hi, Michael."  
  
"Hey."  
  
She nodded and left, and Max and Michael headed downstairs, to the breakfast table, where Phillip was already sitting, staring at his hands. Isabel put her hand on his shoulder on her way to her seat, but he didn't look up until everyone had been seated and breakfast had begun. Then he looked up at Michael, eyes full of self-reproach. It made Michael uncomfortable to see an adult look at him like that, so he looked down at his pancakes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Michael," Phillip said, voice low.  
  
"What for, sir?" Michael asked, not looking up.  
  
"I know you two were close." He paused for a few moments. "We're going to try to get her back. I—know a guy, and he thinks it might be possible."  
  
Michael looked up, for once in his life allowing himself to hope. Immediately, his heart sank, and he had to look away again. "Whatever."  
  
Nothing more was said, and they finished their breakfast in uneasy silence.  
  
After breakfast, they'd had to dash out of the house, in order to not miss the bus, and Isabel immediately joined the hens' conversation, though she wasn't as talkative as she usually was. At Liz's—Michael had to stop himself. At the next stop, Maria climbed on, and looked confused when she didn't see Liz. She took the empty seat behind Max and Michael, and tapped Max on the shoulder.  
  
"Hey Romeo, where's Liz?" she demanded. Max didn't answer, so Michael had to turn around.  
  
"She's gone." He said, the words hurting just as much as they did when he said them to Alex.  
  
"The hell are you talking about, gone? Gone where?" Maria demanded. "Gone, as in, she's sick today, but she'll be better tomorrow?"  
  
He shook his head. "She's in Clovis."  
  
"Why?" Maria screeched.  
  
"Her dad went to jail," Michael said reluctantly.  
  
"Mr. Parker?! Why? You're not telling me anything, Michael!" Maria yelled, earning her a dirty look from the bus driver.  
  
"Calm down."  
  
"I'm not calming down until you tell me why the hell my best friend is suddenly in Clovis. And why is Mr. Parker in jail?!" She began panting heavily.  
  
"Maria, you really need to calm down," Michael placated. She sat there for a few minutes, until her breathing had returned to normal.  
  
"Michael, you really need to tell me why my friend is in Clovis, okay?" Maria said calmly, just as the bus pulled up in front of school.  
  
"I... It's not my place to tell you," Michael said, stepping off of the bus. "You'd better ask Alex."  
  
Maria just growled and stomped away.  
  
Michael found himself going numbly to all of his classes that day, where he would sit and learn nothing until the bell rang, and the process would start all over. Finally, he was in the last class of the day—science. It also happened to be the worst class of the day—it was the only class he and Liz had shared, and her empty desk next to him made him feel worse. The teacher stood in the front of the room, looking at her gradebook.  
  
"Okay, class. Those tests. I still don't have signatures from Mr. Whitmore—" She looked at Michael, who shrugged. "Or Mr. Parker." She looked down at Liz's desk. "Where is Miss Parker?"  
  
"I heard she's in jail," came a voice from the back of the room. "Juvie."  
  
Michael whipped around to glare at the idiot who had said that. "No, she's not," he said fiercely, clenching his fist.  
  
"Mr. Guerin, please turn around. Do you know where Liz is?"  
  
"I do." He closed his eyes to concentrate on controlling his powers. The teacher wouldn't leave him alone.  
  
"Then where is she? Is she in school today? Was she planning on gracing us with her presence today, or will we be deprived?" She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Michael couldn't stop the flow of power from his fingertips, so he surreptitiously directed it towards the open window. There was a bright flash of light in the sky, and a tree burst into flames. All of the kids gasped and ran to the window, and the teacher had to scurry to close it. "Ladies and gentlemen, please sit back down, and get away from the windows. It's dry lightning, guys, nothing you haven't seen before. Please sit down. Now, Michael. Where is Miss Parker?" Before he could answer, the telephone rang, and she had to answer it. Once she'd hung up, she drew a line through her gradebook. "Nevermind, Mr. Guerin. I know."  
  
What pissed him off was that she acted like Liz could just be erased with one line in a book. He focused on his desk. Do not lose control again, he warned himself, repeating that over and over in his head. Do not lose control. Do not lose control.  
  
It worked, and soon Science class was over. He filed out with the rest of the class, and went slowly to his locker. The bustling crowd in the hallway meant nothing to him, as he focused completely on his combination, and then on his books, and then on his backpack. Max and Isabel approached him, and Michael looked over their shoulders at Alex and Maria, who were clutching to each other and crying. Why couldn't he do that? Just hold on to someone and let go of everything—let himself cry? He brushed angrily at his burning eyes and slammed his locker shut. He knew why. It was because he was who he was. He couldn't cry. He didn't cry. He'd always coached himself to bite back the tears and yell at something instead. Crying was a sign of weakness.  
  
But Liz cried. And she wasn't weak.  
  
Why did he think that? It was the last straw. He punched his locker and slid down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in them. For maybe the first time in his life, Michael just let the tears fall, and didn't give a damn about who saw. After a few minutes, he felt a soft, comforting hand on his shoulder, and then felt someone else sit next to him. He didn't look up—he knew it was Isabel and Max—and anyway, he wasn't done yet. When he finally felt that he couldn't cry anymore, he looked up, ready to glare at anyone who was looking at him funny. But there was no one except Max, Isabel, Maria, and Alex, and all of their eyes were red as well.  
  
Michael stood, feeling uneasy at the scene around him. Everyone else stood as well, and the little group walked out of the school, silent but understanding. 


	12. 12

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat  
  
Email:   
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst  
  
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Now becoming full-blown Polar.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.  
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.  
  
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter 12  
  
The months crawled by, slowly turning into years, and Michael found himself withdrawing from the people he had once been close to. He hadn't spoken to Alex or Maria since that day in the school hallway, which wasn't surprising—they'd been Liz's friends-not Michael's, but he also hadn't really spoken to Max or Isabel. He knew it hurt them-he could see it whenever he glanced their way, but he couldn't help it. So he didn't feel like talking to people anymore. It wasn't the end of the world. Michael knew that it wasn't healthy for him to completely withdraw from all contact, so he made an effort—sort of. He'd kind of joined the school art club—'kind of' meaning that there was never anything official, but he hung out in the art room during their meetings, drawing what their assignments were and occasionally inserting a comment into their conversations. No one really knew who he was, since they were all freshmen and sophomores and he was a senior, but they respected him because he was such an amazing artist. There was a girl he talked to occasionally—her name was Miriam—just because she was always in the back, just like he was. She was a nice girl, but Michael didn't care one way or the other. He'd been numb ever since Liz was taken away.  
  
One day, the art teacher walked into the room, passed out sheets of loose leaf paper in his usual, abstract, not-all-there way, and sat in the front of the room. "I have had an epiphany," he said excitedly. Michael just looked around the room. "This whole time, I've been telling you students what to draw. That's not art. That's...school. So here's what I want you all to do. Close your eyes."  
  
Michael looked at everyone else, who had obeyed, and did the same.  
  
"Good. Now. Clear your minds, please. Listen to my voice and just think of a big white blank. A blank canvas, if you will. Does everyone have it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Now, what is the first thing that you think of when I say the word... 'flying'? I want you to draw it."  
  
Michael remembered sitting in the swing, watching Liz lay back in her swing and pretend to fly. His stomach twisted, and he opened his eyes, gulping. He looked up at the art teacher, who had gone to the art supplies cupboard and flung it open with a bang.  
  
"You will have free rein with the supplies, students. Feel free to use pastels...charcoal...pen and ink...clay, even. As long as it mirrors what you just thought of."  
  
Michael stood there for a while, trying to figure the whole thing out. Could he draw her? Of course. Her face had been burned into his mind. The question was, could he draw her without...hurting? Looks like that would be the challenge, then, wouldn't it? He shook himself and headed up to the cupboard, grabbing a set of charcoals and returning to his easel. Miriam had already begun painting—it looked like the sky. He sighed, and she smiled over at him.  
  
"What are you going to draw?" She asked, returning to the paint.  
  
"I'm... You know what? I can't talk while I'm doing this."  
  
"But we always talk when we're drawing," Miriam said, looking confused.  
  
"I know. But. This...This is going to be hard." He selected his first charcoal, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod.  
  
"All right. Sorry. Good luck."  
  
He nodded and began sketching her outline. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be to remember Liz's face, which sort of scared him. Once he'd sketched her out, he took another look and realized that she looked the way she had when she left—scared and sad—not the way she looked when she was 'flying'. He growled and tore the paper off the easel, crumpling it into a ball and dropping it onto the floor. By the time he'd gotten her outline right, the teacher was telling everyone to put their supplies away. He sighed and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving black smudges on the denim, then replaced the pencils in the cupboard. The teacher came around behind him and looked at his picture. Michael snapped his book shut and spun around, trying to ignore the burning pain in his scar. When had that appeared?  
  
"Who is she?" the teacher asked, smiling kindly.  
  
"A friend," Michael growled, tucking the sketchpad under his arm and stalking out of the room. He was concentrating so hard on the floor that he didn't notice when he ran right into someone, knocking both of them to the ground. He looked up—it was Isabel. He stood and offered her his hand, which she took, then bent to pick up her backpack.  
  
"You okay, Michael?" Isabel asked worriedly.  
  
"I'm fine, Isabel," he replied, more gruffly than he'd meant. He softened his tone a little. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"I meant...in general. I haven't seen you in a long time." Her voice was bordering on reproachful, but it also held a hint of excitement.  
  
"I'm fine," he repeated. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm great. Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"  
  
Whoa. It was. How had he forgotten this?  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
"How much longer—three, four weeks?"  
  
"Yeah." Why did he get the feeling she was planning something? "Look, you're not going to do anything, are you?"  
  
"No. Why would I?"  
  
"Because I know you, Isabel. Just...don't do anything."  
  
"You're such a male," Isabel said, laughing. "And so arrogant. I'm not doing anything. But look, I've got to go, okay? I'll see you later."  
  
She bounced away, leaving Michael to pick up his sketchpad and head home. Hank was the same as ever—usually drunk—but since Liz had left, Michael hadn't cared. His passiveness when Hank was wailing on him must have made it boring for the useless slob, because beatings were fewer and shorter. And usually—like today—Hank wasn't even at home. Michael entered the trailer and shook his head, heading to the cupboards for something to eat. He was reaching for the Saltines, but then froze when a memory punched him in the gut.  
  
By lunchtime, Michael's stomach was about to cave in, as he rummaged in his locker for whatever would pass for a lunch. Did he remember to bring those crackers?  
  
Of course not. He sighed and put his head in his locker, wondering if you could pass out from being this hungry.  
  
"What's wrong?" a soft voice asked from behind him. He jumped and turned to face Liz, whose chocolate eyes were sympathetic.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You forgot your lunch?"  
  
His shoulders slumped even more. "Yeah."  
  
A shadow of something passed over Liz's face, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills.  
  
"I don't want your money."  
  
"I'm not giving it to you."  
  
"Oh..." His stomach gave a half-hearted growl, as though it had realized that it wasn't getting anything, and had to register one final protest.  
  
"I'm lending it to you."  
  
"I know how that works. No thanks." Sure he was hungry, but he had to keep his dignity. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
"Seriously. I'm expecting it back. With one percent interest per every two weeks that you don't pay me back." She thrust it into his hand, then dug through her bag, coming up with a perfectly shaped, brilliantly red apple, then held it out to him. "And, here. I don't even like these. Mom always packs one the day after Dad—" She broke off. "Well, if you want it, its yours."  
  
Michael stared at the fruit in her hand for a second, then slowly reached out to take it. She smiled softly, then began to head away.  
  
"Thanks..." He said. She turned back and nodded.  
  
Michael dropped his hand. He never had repaid her. He must owe her so much by now. He grinned. She hadn't really been expecting it back, he knew. She'd just been trying to get him to take her money. A part of him had known when he'd taken it, but hunger had prevented him from refusing. He remembered her face when he'd finally accepted—she'd been pleased, but not smug. He wondered if he could draw that. Abandoning his crackers, he grabbed his sketchpad and a pencil and darted into his room.  
  
At the next art club meeting, Michael immediately claimed the easel furthest from the front, and then went to get the charcoals. He opened his book to the picture of Liz flying. Without saying a word to Miriam, he got right down to work. By the end of class, he had finished. He stepped back and looked at his work with mixed feelings, rubbing absently at his scar, which was tingling.  
  
Liz's face was tilted back and she looked peaceful but exhilarated as she flew back and forth in the swing. The sun made her dark hair shimmer, and she drank the sunlight in happily. He'd taken special care with her lips, which were curled in Liz's small smile as she swung.  
  
Michael looked up, sensing a presence behind him, and spun around. It was the teacher, who was studying the picture just as intently as Michael had been. He saw him smile as he caught sight of Liz's hair in the dust, and then tore his eyes away, looking at Michael.  
  
"It's...amazing, Michael," he said. "You're an amazing artist."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Michael muttered, putting the charcoals away.  
  
"What are you going to call it?" he asked, returning his gaze to the picture.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
She sat up slowly, dragging her feet in the dirt. "Try it. It feels like you're flying."  
  
He leaned back, watching the ground fly up at him, then the sky. It was kind of like flying...in a way. He sat up and looked over at Liz, who was laying down again, the very end of her hair trailing in the dirt. She looked up at his face and began laughing.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You have dirt-on your-face..." she giggled.  
  
"What's so funny about that?" He asked, swiping at his face. She looked at him and laughed harder.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"You've just-made it worse!" She stood up and wiped her finger across his cheek, right under his eye.  
  
"Is it gone now, or what?" Michael asked, almost sorry that her gentle touch was gone.  
  
"It's gone. You're such a boy."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing."   
  
"I... I think... It's called, 'Dirt on My Face,'" Michael said.  
  
"What made you call it that?"  
  
Michael shrugged uncomfortably, realizing that he was being far too open with this man, who might as well be a stranger. The man nodded and moved on to the next student.  
  
The assignments in art club continued in the same vein, and it seemed like Michael thought of Liz for every single one. On one hand, it hurt that he was thinking about her all the time, but, then again, drawing Liz was the one way for him to keep from forgetting her face. And she was so perfect to draw—it seemed that he rarely made a 'mistake' when it came to her face, except on his most melancholy days, where she would come out looking sad and afraid. This was rare, though, and soon his book was half-filled with pictures of Liz.  
  
One day, as he was walking out of the classroom, Isabel and Max stepped in front of him. He froze, and then laughed.  
  
"What do you guys want?" he asked, then lowered his voice. "And you'd better not do that anymore—I nearly blasted you guys."  
  
"Sorry," Max said. "We didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Michael demanded. "I never said you scared me. I said I nearly blasted you."  
  
"Whatever," Isabel said. "You're coming with us." She grabbed his arm and led him to the doors. Michael, having nothing better to do that day, allowed her to drag him back to the Evanses'. 


	13. 13

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat  
  
Email:   
  
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst

Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Now becoming full-blown Polar.  
  
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g  
  
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.   
  
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.

Credits: The song Happy Birthday is not mine, but I know that it is copyrighted or whatever, so I want to make sure that it is widely known that I make no money from this story. nods

Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Chapter 13

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, as Isabel dragged him up their front steps. He didn't want to go in there—he'd remember all the time Liz had spent there. Isabel dropped his arm and turned to look at him.

"I don't know. Mom just told me to bring you home today." She looked over his shoulder at Max, and something glinted in her eyes. "Come on. She's expecting you."

She pushed the door open, and Michael stepped inside.

"Hey, Michael," said Phillip, who was sitting in a chair, reading the newspaper. What was he doing home so early? Phillip looked up, the same glint in his eyes as Isabel just had.

"Hi, Mr. Evans."

"Come on!" Isabel exclaimed, pulling him into the kitchen. Mrs. Evans was standing over the stove, stirring a pot. The air smelled...hot and sweet, as though she'd been baking something, and Michael narrowed his eyes in suspicion. She turned around.

"Hi Michael!" she said, smiling kindly. "Long time, no see."

"I've been busy," he mumbled, looking at the floor.

"Of course you have. Max, why don't you take him up to your room? I'll call you guys when it's ready."

"Right. Come on, Michael," Max said, pulling him up the stairs. Halfway up, Michael yanked his arm away.

"Maxwell, I know where your room is—I don't think I'll get lost on the way," he said, a little irritated that these guys thought that they had to pull him everywhere.

"Sorry." He opened his bedroom door and ushered Michael inside. "So. What do you want to do?"

"What do I want to do, Maxwell? You're the one who dragged me here."

"Right. Hey. Did I tell you?" Max looked half-afraid, half-proud.

"Tell me what?"

"Maria and I...are going out." Max dropped his eyes.

"You're kidding. You and Maria DeLuca?"

Max looked up at him, defensive. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just...she's not the type of girl I saw you with." Which was true. And when had Max given up his crush on Liz?

"Michael, I realized a while after she left... I did like her, but... not the way that y—other people do." Max looked at him, his eyes serious. "And Maria...I love her. She's...she's so funny. And sweet."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Okay, fine. I don't see it, but if you say you love her..."

"I do. Gods, do I love her." Max sighed happily.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks." There was silence for a while. "Uhm...could I see what's in your sketchbook?"

Michael looked down at the large pad and held it closer to him. "They're just drawings. Pictures I couldn't get out of my head."

"So? Let me see. Please?"

"You have to promise not to laugh or say that I'm weird or have sort of medical condition that's only treatable by medication, okay?"

"I promise."

"I'm only showing this to you because we're like brothers, okay? No one else has ever seen these."

"I'm honored."

Michael reluctantly handed the sketchbook to his almost-brother, who flipped through the pages.

"Michael, these are all—"

"I know."

"And...they're great. Beautiful." He gently traced one of the pictures, careful not to smudge it.

"So was she." He stared down at Liz's face. This picture was of Liz, leaning over a book on the Crashdown counter. Her chin was resting in her hand, and her hair fell almost in front of her face, casting a shadow onto her features. He lifted his eyes from the page, and saw Max staring at him with a secret smile on his face. "What?" He demanded.

"Nothing." Max tried to look innocent. Michael half-sighed, half-growled, and snatched his book back. Max wouldn't hand it over, so Michael had to start wrestling him for it. When he'd finally gotten it back, he looked up at the doorway, where Isabel was standing and watching them in amused interest. Michael leapt to his feet.

"He started it," he said defensively. Isabel just nodded.

"We're ready," she said, and disappeared back downstairs. Michael turned to glare at Max, who looked excited.

"Ready for what?" he demanded. Max went to grab his arm, but then remembered what Michael had said and wisely stopped.

"Just come downstairs. It's time for dinner." He nearly skipped out of the room and down the stairs. Michael rolled his eyes and followed in a more dignified manner, taking a seat at the dinner table. He looked around at everyone else, who were staring very intently at their dinner plates and not even attempting conversation. This was...weird. Sure, he hadn't eaten with the Evanses in years, but it was very doubtful that they would have changed so much. Finally, though, their plates had been cleaned, and Isabel and Max leapt up, clearing the table. Diane brought in a stack of dessert plates and set them down, smiling widely.

"So...what are these for?" Michael asked. She sat down, after turning off the lights.

"You'll see," she said mysteriously.

"Okay. But why are we in the dark?" Michael demanded. This was quickly turning into a situation that he was not happy in. The door from the family room slowly swung open, and Michael leapt up, arm outstretched-ready to blast whoever it was-but Max grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down.

"Happy birthday to you..." sang an almost-familiar voice. The rest of them joined in, and Michael tried to make out who it was, but the flickering candlelight prevented him from seeing her clearly. It was a her...that was for sure. It was a female voice, and the dim light from the family room silhouetting the mystery person revealed some very feminine curves. She set the cake down on the table as they finished the song, and he rolled his eyes and blew out the candles, plunging them into darkness smelling of sulfur. He heard Diane slowly get up to turn the lights back on, and focused on the cake instead of the girl in front of him. It wasn't... It couldn't be... He looked up...

...And into a pair of very nervous, very familiar brown eyes.

He leapt up and grabbed her by the shoulders, as though she were going to slip away. He just held her still for a second, while he stared at her, trying to reassure himself that this wasn't a dream. There was no way. She couldn't—but here she was. Speechless, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tightly to his body. She was hugging him equally tightly, and neither of them let go for a long time.

"Come on, Birthday Boy," Liz murmured into his ear. "They're anxiously waiting for you to cut the cake so they can eat it already. And you'd better hurry, because from the looks of things, Max is about ready to dive headfirst into the damn thing."

Michael had to laugh, then released her almost completely, interlacing her fingers with his while he hastily slashed at the cake. Finally, a disgusted Isabel took the knife from him.

"Honestly, Michael..." She said, taking over. She made pieces more equal in size, and then handed them to everyone sitting at the table. Max moved over to a chair that Phillip had brought in, so Liz could have his seat next to Michael. He could hardly concentrate on eating the cake in front of him, but he knew that Diane must have spent a long time on it, so he nearly forced himself. Once he'd finished, Diane laughed and took his plate.

"Go," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Go catch up with her. We've had her all to ourselves for a day and a half."

"We're actually getting quite sick of her," Isabel said with a grin. Michael rolled his eyes and stood, leading Liz outside.

They were just sitting there, on the lawn. Liz was looking up at the stars, but Michael was distracted by a...more earthly view. It was almost unreal—her head was tilted back delicately as she scanned the skies, and the moonlight was practically caressing her hair, her face, her neck... She looked like some sort of moon goddess. Or an angel. Michael tore his eyes away from her.

"If I...went inside to get something, do you promise you'll still be here when I get back?" He asked softly, not wanting to spoil the moment. She smiled, but didn't look away from the sky.

"I promise," she whispered. Michael jumped up and ran back to Max's room, retrieving his sketchbook before darting back outside. She was still there. Was this not a dream? God, please don't let it be a dream. Michael settled back onto the grass and flipped through his book. There wasn't much light, but he needed to get this down onto paper. Liz looked over at him inquisitively, and he shrugged.

"I draw," he said simply. "I'm going to draw you. Do what you were doing. It won't take long. I just...need to get the sketch down first."

She smiled softly and nodded, leaning back, onto her elbows. Michael took a deep breath and began outlining her face. By the time he had finished, his throat felt funny and he had to try to clear it a few times. Liz looked over at him, smiling.

"So," she began. "How have you been?"

He shrugged.

"Max told me that this was probably the first time you two had spoken in...years. Why?" She tilted her head to the side, regarding him gently. He shrugged again. "It...wasn't me, was it?"

"I don't know. I...just didn't feel like talking to any of them anymore. So I didn't."

"You shouldn't have done that, Michael," Liz admonished quietly.

"Why not?"

This time she shrugged. "They're your friends."

"So were you."

She smiled her shy Liz smile and looked away. For some reason, Michael wanted her eyes on him—wanted to be able to look into her eyes. He tried to convince himself that it was because he wanted to make sure that Liz was actually there, but Alex's laughing words from the day after Liz had left kept nudging at him. "So. Your fosterfamily. What are they like?"

She looked back at him, probably reading his mind the way only she could, and grinned. "They were...perfect. I mean, you know. Nothing's perfect, but they're..." She sighed happily. "They had five other kids already—four boys older than I am, and a daughter a few years younger."

"Sounds...nice." God dammit! Was that jealousy in his voice? He kicked himself. Couldn't he be happy for her? Liz studied him serenely.

"It was...most of the time. But...it was just too many kids. It was always really loud, and none of us ever really got the attention we wanted. It was kind of a joke in the neighborhood that, if one of us disappeared, they wouldn't notice for at least a couple of days." She grinned. "And in school, I...was just one of the Mitchell kids, regardless of the fact that my last name wasn't Mitchell." She bit her lip. "I mean, school was okay, but...I didn't really have any good friends there." She covered her face with her hands, laughing. "And now I've just rambled on and on."

Michael pulled her hands away from her face. "No you didn't. And even if you did, I wouldn't care. Because that'd mean that you were actually here."

"Do you need me to pinch you? Would that convince you that I'm really here? I mean...you seem to be having such a hard time." She beamed at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"How long have you been back?"

"A day and a half, like Max said."

"You've been here that long and you didn't come say hi, or...something?" Michael pretended to be hurt, and stood up. Liz reached up and grabbed his pant leg.

"Get back down here," she ordered, tugging on his jeans. He obeyed. "The Evanses figured that it would make a good birthday present to you, or something. I mean, you only turn eighteen once, right?"

"Yeah. How'd you get here?"

She sort of smiled. "I took extra classes after school, so I could get more credits and finish early. I am now done with school." She grinned. "Go me."

"Are you going to college, or... what?"

She shook her head. "There's no money for me to go. I'll have to get a job and save up if I want to go next year."

"Aren't there scholarships out the butt for people like you?"

She laughed. "I looked. Everything's full this year."

"That sucks. So...where are you going to be working?"

Liz looked around. "I was hoping...here. I mean, I know that there aren't really that many high-paying jobs in Roswell, but...I did some math, and even if I were just waitressing—getting paid the normal wage, of course, and assuming my tips were about the same as they were when I was younger... I might be able to swing a few classes at the community college."

"Liz Parker shouldn't have to go to community college," Michael said. "You should be, like, studying abroad...at an archaeology dig in Egypt or something."

Liz stood. "Would you rather I went to Africa? Because...I could. In fact, I think I will. See you in a couple of years, Michael, unless I contract some fatal disease and die." She went to walk off, but this time he grabbed her jeans.

"Get back here, Parker," he ordered. She laughed and obeyed, sitting back down in the grass. They were silent for a while, just drinking in the sight of each other. Finally, Liz dropped her eyes.

"I really missed you, Michael," she said softly. Why did those words from her lips send a shiver up his spine?

"I missed you, too." At his words, Liz smiled and looked up at him, once more locking eyes.

"You know..." She began hesitantly, as though she were afraid that he'd laugh at what she was about to say. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. When I drove off, I had...this really scary feeling... I knew that I wouldn't be back."

That'd been exactly what he felt. How could she always do that, even after five years apart? He reached out and touched her face. "But you're here, so looks like, for the first time in your life, you were wrong."

Liz threw her head back and laughed,


	14. 14

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat

Email: 

Rating: PG, for language and violence.

Genre: Drama/Angst

Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Now becoming full-blown Polar.

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g

Summary: Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.

Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lmao. I don't think there's any, though.

AN:The story's done-I have all the chapters written, I just don't post here for some reason. They are over at , though.

Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Chapter 14

Michael awakened slowly the next day, dread settling low in his throat. There was something wrong. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around the room. The couch was empty—not even blankets hinted that the day before hadn't been a dream. Michael's heart sank, and he rose to his feet, dragging his sleeping bag back into Max's room. Max rolled over in his bed, staring at Michael through sleep-filled eyes.

"What're you doing, man?" he asked. Michael shrugged.

"Putting this away. Gotta go home, change my clothes."

"Since when do you care about that stuff?"

Michael shrugged again, and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, Isabel appeared in the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded. He spun around.

"Christ, Blondie. You gotta stop doing that, or I'm going to blast you."

"Don't call me Blondie," Isabel said firmly. "Are you leaving without breakfast?"

"That depends. What's for breakfast?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know. Mom and Dad left for Santa Fe early this morning, so Liz said she'd go out and find something."

"Liz?"

"Liz Parker? Remember?" Isabel thunked his head playfully.

"So yesterday was real," Michael mumbled, jumping when someone knocked on the door. Isabel reached past him to swing it open, revealing Liz, looking just as beautiful in the morning sun as she had in the moonlight. She was trying to balance a tray of coffees and a box, which Michael suspected was full of doughnuts. Isabel took it from her and led them into the kitchen. He must have been staring at Liz again, because she wiped a hand across her face self-consciously, grinning. Michael snorted and grabbed her into a bear hug, which she returned wholeheartedly

"What, were you afraid I'd disappeared?" She asked with a grin once he'd let her go, gently running her fingers through his hair to work the tangles out.

"Haven't you heard?" Isabel said, grabbing a glazed doughnut and a coffee before exiting. "Michael Guerin isn't afraid of anything."

He rolled his eyes at Isabel's retreating back and then turned back to Liz. She took a chocolate doughnut and a coffee, and sat at the table, watching him. Michael rummaged around in the fridge for a bottle of Tabasco, then took a cruller and sat across from her, taking his eyes off of her only to coat his cruller in the hot sauce. When he looked up, Liz was still watching him, this time with a wrinkled nose. He bit into the concoction with gusto, and she looked away, shaking her head.

"What?" he demanded around a mouthful of doughnut.

"Nothing," she replied, picking up a section of the newspaper. "Nothing at all."

"Yeah, yeah." He yanked the paper away from her. She made a halfhearted reach for it, but then just sat back in her seat, looking at him. "What are you doing today?"

She shrugged. "I guess I've got to go find Maria and let her know I'm back. I don't know if she cares anymore, but… Then I should find Alex too."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"Maria could always read the two of us like baby books." She laughed. "If he knew, she'd drag it out of him within a minute." She grinned and looked down at the table, before returning her eyes to his. "Where would they be, do you know?"

"Maria would be at the Crashdown," Michael shrugged. "Alex... I don't know."

"You didn't keep in touch with him," she said, looking as though that pained her. Before he could say anything, she shrugged and took a swig of her coffee. They finished the rest of their breakfast in silence, and by the time they'd finished, Michael had mostly convinced himself that this was real—that she was actually there. Liz looked up, chucking her empty cup at the garbage. It missed, of course, and she swore and went to retrieve it. Michael snorted.

"You did not just laugh at me," Liz said in disbelief. Michael nodded, finishing off his own coffee. "Let's see you do better."

"You don't want none of this," he said, opening the newspaper but watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was standing there, hands on hips, and he turned to look at her.

"Let's see, SpikeBoy," Liz taunted. "Or are you afraid that you can't do any better than a little girl?"

Michael rolled his eyes but was unable to ignore her challenge. He let his cup fly towards the trash can, and it fell short. Liz snorted.

"You throw like a girl," she giggled, putting the cup in the trash. Michael leapt up and tackled her, making sure to hold onto her so she didn't hit the floor too hard.

"I what like a girl?" he demanded, grabbing her ribs. Liz giggled and tried to push him off, but he didn't move. "Come on, Liz. I what like a girl? What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything!" she gasped, trying to defend herself against his fingers, but to no avail.

"You said something, Liz. I what like a girl?"

"Nothing!"

"So I'm completely masculine in every way, then?" He tickled her harder.

"Yes! You are the ultimate man's man! Totally masculine! Just—stop!"

Michael acquiesced, but didn't get off. Liz glared up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. He tugged a strand of her hair, and she retaliated by doing the same to his.

"The hair…" she began, grinning wickedly. "Way macho."

"Don't make me start again," he threatened, wiggling his fingers in her face. Liz laughed and pushed them away, and they both froze as Max shuffled into the kitchen. He took a doughnut and a coffee, pausing to watch them amusedly. "Can we help you, Maxwell?" Michael asked mock-politely, and the other boy just shook his head, sipping from the thick paper cup.

"Nope. I'm good. 'Morning, Liz."

"'Morning, Max. Sleep okay?" Liz was blushing at their being caught the way they'd been, but she was making no move to get away from Michael, which was just fine with him.

"Nah. Made a few mistakes," Max quipped, wandering into the living room. Liz just watched him, an odd look on her face, and then her gaze returned to Michael, and she burst out laughing, for no apparent reason. But her laugh had this way of making you want to start laughing, so he joined in, and they just lay there for a few minutes, laughing their asses off.

Finally, Liz calmed down and pushed lightly on his chest. "Get off of me, you big oaf, so I can go get dressed."

"You look fine in this," Michael said, not moving. Liz rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I don't think so. Up." She punched him lightly, and he rolled off of her, clutching his chest and moaning.

"You punctured my heart!" he exclaimed, collapsing onto the floor. "Call 911! I need an ambulance! Please! Help!"

Liz rolled her eyes again and stepped over him, disappearing into the guest bathroom. By the time she re-emerged, Michael had beaten Max at the video game they'd been playing four times. Liz stood over his chair, watching the two of them, and then, just as it became time for Michael to perform a crucial maneuver, she grabbed his hand, thereby allowing Max to beat him.

"Hey!" He exclaimed indignantly. She smiled innocently, stepping out of reach. Max was busy doing his victory dance, which was still every bit as awkward and creepy as it had been when they were thirteen. Liz and Michael watched him quietly, eyebrows arched.

"Now aren't you sorry you did that?" Michael asked, not taking his eyes off Max. Liz nodded, eyes wide. Max realized that they were looking at him and paused, grinning.

"I…beat you…" he said to Michael, trying to justify his creepy ritual. Michael just shrugged, eyes almost as wide as Liz's. Max flung himself to the couch, crossing his arms. "Shut up."

They sat there for a while, watching the opening screen of the video game, and then Liz jumped up. Michael followed, though he didn't know why.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"For a walk. I'm not sitting in the house all day. You two want to come?"

Michael glanced at Max, who smiled knowingly. "No. I'm gonna stay here for a while. You two go."

Michael narrowed his eyes at Max, and he shrugged, trying to look innocent. "Are you going to the Crashdown later?"

"Yeah," Liz answered. "Gotta find Maria."

"Okay. I'll meet you guys there, then. Now go." He gestured for them to leave, and they complied, Michael closing the door quietly behind them. They just stood on the front porch for a few moments, looking around.

"Where are you going to go?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was thinking the park, maybe. You know…meander through the greenery." She grinned and extended her hand. "Now, are you going to come with me, or are you going to stand there and question me?"

Michael made a face at her and stood there, studying her hand. He wondered if it was really as soft as it'd been last night, or if that had just been a trick of his imagination? He had been tired, after all. He didn't realize that he'd been standing there for a while, until Liz reached over and grabbed his hand. The soft warmth shocked him out of his trance, and he looked up at her.

"I don't have cooties, and we can't just stand here looking at my hands all day. So let's go." She led him down the stairs, then glanced up at his face and giggled.

"What?" he demanded. She laughed and took a step closer to him as they headed down the sidewalk. Dreams weren't warm, right? You can't feel them walking next to you on the sidewalk? In response to his unspoken musings, Liz stepped even closer to his side and slid her arm through his.

"I'm here, Michael," she said quietly.

"How do you do that?" Michael asked, looking over at her. She looked up in confusion.

"Do what?"

"It's like, no matter what I'm thinking, you know it, and somehow manage to say…the perfect thing—exactly what I need to hear."

She laughed. "Michael, despite what you may like to think, you're not that hard to read." She smiled up at him. "Not for me, anyway."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she giggled, looking away. They said nothing more, and continued walking.

(MEMORY OF ROB AND THE CAR, ETC)

Liz froze, and Michael knew that she was remembering the same thing as he'd been. He pulled her to him for a sort of hug.

"You alright?" he mumbled into her hair. She nodded but didn't say a word, and they continued on. After a while, Liz spoke up.

"Hey, you remember that Rob guy?" she asked quietly.

Michael nodded. "How could I forget?

She smiled. "Well, I've been paying attention to the news in Tulsa for…a while. Did you know that he was arrested?"

"What for?"

She counted off the items on her fingers. "Three cases of child molestation, one case of child abuse, he kidnapped two kids, and he was a part of a child pornography ring."

"Jesus Christ." Michael muttered. Liz nodded.

"I know. They got Nancy too. She helped in some of that shit."

"And they almost got you," Michael said, not even wanting to think about what could have happened to her if they had. She slid her arm around his waist.

"But they didn't, so let's forget about it."

"All right, all right."

They were silent for a little while longer, and then Liz spoke up.

"So how long have you been drawing?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He really didn't. Every time he'd picked up a pencil and created something, just blended together, without a beginning or an end. "Probably a while after you left."

"So you probably have some good pictures, right?"

"Not…really."

"Come on. Don't be modest. You could be the next Michelangelo." She grinned.

"Yeah, because there's so much room to paint on the trailer's ceiling."

"You're still living there?" Liz asked in dismay.

Michael nodded. "It's free."

"But you have to live with Hank…" Michael knew she was remembering that one time she'd witnessed an interaction between the two of them. Funny how something like that would affect her so much, while the fact that her father nearly killed her just floated on by. He didn't know how to answer that, and she let it go. They walked for what must have been hours in silence, trying to make up for lost time together. After a while, Michael's stomach rumbled noisily, and Liz snorted, glancing at her watch.

"Let's go get lunch," she said, immediately dragging him off in another direction. He allowed her to lead him towards the Crashdown. She paused just before she went inside—bracing herself, Michael knew, for whatever might come.

"Michael!" Maria yelled over her shoulder as she carted a tray over to a table. "You're late, pally. Jose is going to have your ass, you know."

"Not working today," he replied, pulling Liz into a booth. She'd frozen in place as soon as she'd heard Maria's voice, effectively blocking the aisle.

"Yeah, tell that to Jose. Mr. Baker had to call him in," she said, taking out her order pad and approaching the table. "Think he didn't get much sleep last night, if you catch my drift."

Michael shuddered. "Don't even say that."

Maria smirked. "So what'll it be?"

"I want a Will Smith with Saturn rings. Cherry coke. And Tabasco." He glanced over at Liz, who hadn't even opened the menu. She was just staring at the cover, lost in thought. Maria ducked down to try to get a better look at her face.

"And the girl? What do you want?"

Liz still didn't look up. "Uhm… could I just get a Nebula salad? And…water."

Maria arched her eyebrows. "You should eat something real," she admonished. "You look like you're going to blow away in the wind."

Liz smiled at the cover of the menu. "I'm just not hungry."

"All right…" Maria said, taking their menus and disappearing.

"Still as meddling as always," Liz grinned. Michael nodded and looked around.

"You think that's bad, you should have seen Alex with her after…you left." Why did he always do that—bring it up? Stupid. He felt like kicking himself. Liz just nodded.

"I can imagine."

"So…" Michael began after a while. "When are you going to out yourself to her?"

Liz shrugged. "I don't know. Soon."

"The longer you sit here, the louder she'll get."

Liz looked up and grinned. "You're right. As soon as she brings our lunch."

"Good." He reached across the table and took her hand. They just sat there, her sparkling brown eyes locked on his, until Maria returned with their food. Michael saw her hesitate out of the corner of his eye.

"Should I come back?" she asked amusedly, turning to leave. Liz took a deep breath and looked up with a nervous smile.

"N-no. You can put it down."

Maria dropped the plates she was holding and pressed her hands over her mouth. Liz stood, careful not to slip on the food, and looked at her old friend. Finally, Maria found words again.

"Omigod!" She screeched, launching herself into Liz's arms. Liz laughed melodically and hugged her tightly. "You just disappeared-no one knew what happened! SpikeBoy had to tell us."

"I'm sorry," Liz said, still hugging her old best friend. "I had to leave-there were the people and the Jeep, and it was early and you were at school, and I- Maria, can you let me go? I can't breathe."

Maria stepped away for a second, but then returned to her friend's arms. Finally, she stepped away for good, and just stood there, her eyes bugging out of her head. Michael's boss, Mr. Baker, walked by, stopping to give Maria a disapproving look.

"You're cleaning that up?" he asked pointedly. Maria nodded, still staring at Liz. "Good." He started to walk away, but then returned. "Oh, and…please socialize on breaks, Maria. I'm not paying you to talk to your friends." He smiled warmly, and Maria nodded, looking down.

"Right, Mr. Baker. Sorry."

He walked away, and Maria returned her gaze to Liz. "You're not going anywhere," she said. "You're going to sit right there until tonight, when I get off, and we're going to sit and have a long chat, Liz Parker."

Liz nodded, looking at her watch. "When do you get off?"

"Not until closing," Maria said. "But it's past three now, so…six hours. And I don't care what you're doing today. I'll break out the handcuffs if I have to." She flounced away, leaving Liz to sit down and blink at Michael.

"She…has handcuffs? Do I want to know?" she asked hesitantly. Michael snorted and looked over at the busboy who had been delegated to clean up Maria's mess.

"All I know is that she and Max do some creepy things. And that's more than I want to know."

Liz shuddered and grinned as Maria brought them another tray. They began eating, trying to ignore Maria, who made it a point to walk by their table every fifteen minutes. Just as they'd finished, Liz looked up towards the door, and went pale.

"Oh my god," she said quietly. Michael swiveled around in his seat, to see Alex walking through the door. "He looks so different."

He did. When Liz had left, Alex had…changed. The way he talked, the way he carried himself…everything. He'd withdrawn from just about everyone except Maria, who probably wouldn't have let him if he had tried. He seemed like he'd gotten over it—he'd gone back to flirting cautiously with Isabel and all that—but he still carried himself the same way.

"He's still the same Alex," he assured her. I hope, he added silently. Alex scanned the faces in the tables at the restaurant, just like he always did, then paused as his gaze slid over their table. Liz smiled softly at him, and his jaw fell open. She stood as he headed over.

"Oh. My. God." Alex said, jaw dropping open. "It's…you're… and you're… Oh. My. God." He held his arms out, and Liz stepped into them, holding him tightly. They both looked like they were going to cry-and neither looked like they planned on letting go anytime soon. After a while, though, they finally did, and Alex held her at arm's length, shaking. She laughed, taking hold of his arm. "I thought… And you're… Liz! How are you?" He grabbed her wrist, as though afraid she'd disappear again.

"I'm great. How are you?"

"Words cannot describe it. Liz!" He pulled her to him in a rib-crushing bear hug, then looked at Michael. "Liz! It's Liz!"

"Yeah, I know," Michael said quietly. Liz sat, pulling Alex down with her. He put his arm around her, not letting her go. They talked quietly, heads tilted together, in soft, loving murmurs. Michael sat back and let them talk, feeling like an outsider but not minding it. He suppressed a small twinge of jealousy, reminding himself that they were best friends—nothing more.

Finally, it was closing, and Maria had finished. They were still sitting in the same booth that they had been sitting in all day, but Alex and Liz had moved apart a little, and Michael had been re-accepted into the conversation. Max had come in shortly after he'd eaten dinner, so the whole gang was there, minus Isabel. Stupid cheerleading.

"Liz, what did happen with your father? Why did he get put in jail? I mean, there were, like, five hundred different stories, but no one really knew." She leaned forward. "He wasn't in the Mob, was he? You're not, like, a Mafia princess?" She looked around in horror. "There aren't dead bodies in the walls, are there?" She leapt up. "Or in the tables?!"

Liz laughed. "No. Dad wasn't in the Mafia. And, as far as I know, the only things in the walls are spiders."

Maria let out a sigh of relief and sat back down. Max laughed and put an arm around her.

"You guys never told?" Liz asked the guys. They shook their heads.

"Told what?" Maria asked. "Oh my god! It's true! Your father was really a hit man, wasn't he? And you were the illegitimate love child resulting from his falling in love with one of his targets. Then when his bosses found out, they had him framed for drug dealing, didn't they?"

Liz snorted. "Maria! You knew my mother! Your mother knew my parents when they were going out! She was my mother's freaking maid of honor!"

"Oh. Right." Maria looked down, disappointed. "Then-" She looked up again, but, on Liz's look, looked back down. "He probably wasn't a hacker who made his way into the bank records and stole millions before anyone could stop him."

"He wasn't."

"Right. Then-what happened? What was he?"

"My father was…Geoff Parker was… See, he…" Liz growled in frustration. Michael, realizing how hard this was for her, took over.

"He hit her."

Maria looked at them in disbelief. "You mean, like, every once in a while, like all parents do, right?"

Liz took a deep breath and shook her head.

"Liz, I knew your father. I mean, he wasn't the most affectionate guy in the world, but he would never hit you."

Now it was Liz's turn to look at Maria in disbelief. "You're willing to believe that my father was a hit man, or in the Mafia, or some computer genius, but you can't accept that he was a child abuser?"

"It's true, Maria," Alex said quietly. Maria jerked her head up.

"Is that why you were always so interested in being a doctor? You were helping Liz?" She asked, finally piecing things together. He nodded, and Maria looked up at Max. "Did you know?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Is that why she was over at your house all the time before she left?"

Max shrugged. "That was mostly because her father was out of town all the time."

Maria looked at Liz in shock. "I didn't know-wait." She looked around the table. "You told Max and Michael, but you didn't tell me?"

"And Isabel," Liz mumbled.

"And Isabel!" Maria exclaimed. "That little factoid isn't helping, Liz! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"You would have overreacted. Like you're doing now."

"Liz, I haven't seen you since you disappeared one day five years ago and Michael had to tell me what happened, and now you reappear and tell me that your father beat you! I think I'm entitled to overreact right now."

"Maria, baby, sit back down," Max said softly, tugging on her shirt. She took a deep breath, but did as he asked. It was amazing how Max could calm Maria down when no one else could.

"I'm sorry, Maria," Liz said quietly. Maria reached across the table and stroked Liz's head.

"I should have seen something. I mean, I was your best friend, wasn't I? Shouldn't I have noticed some mark or something-anything?"

"Maria, don't start. I kept myself covered up-no one ever saw anything unless I showed them."

"Or unless your sleeve rode up at the dinner table," Max added. Liz rolled her eyes.

"What does that mean? Do your parents know?" Maria demanded. He nodded. "Christ, Liz. Did you tell everyone but me?" Liz didn't answer. "Sorry. Look, I've gotta go. If I've got opening shift tomorrow, I have to be here by five. See you guys later."

Liz watched her leave, biting softly on her lower lip. Michael reached across the table and took her hand

"She's just freaked," he told her quietly. "She's not really mad."

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand gently.

"I'm going home," Max said, standing up. "I'll leave the door open for you, Liz."

"Okay. Thanks." She looked up and smiled, and he left. Alex glanced at his watch.

"I should go home too," he said reluctantly. "Promise me that you'll still be here tomorrow?"

"Not in this exact position," Liz said, amused. "But I'll be here. Just ask Michael."

Alex just snorted and headed out, leaving the two of them sitting at the booth. Liz looked down at their entwined hands and then up at his face, a small smile gracing her features. He looked down as well, and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. She stood up slowly, moving over to his side of the table without breaking them apart.

"Hi…" she said shyly, biting softly on her lower lip. He couldn't stop the smile from making its way across his face, and pushed some of her hair behind her ear, tilting her chin up. He saw her eyes flutter down—towards his lips?—then return. Was that a faint blush tinting her cheeks?

"Hi," he murmured, moving closer. He was almost dizzy with how close to him she was. Her tongue slid out between her lips, moistening them, and she moved still closer. It was going to happen. They were going to kiss. He twisted his fingers up through her hair and pulled her closer. She tilted her head, and his eyes slid closed, awaiting the bliss of her lips against his.

"Hey, kids!" A voice sounded from the doorway. Michael felt Liz yank away, and reluctantly opened his eyes. Liz was concentrating very hard on the table, her face a bright red. Michael looked up—Mr. Baker was standing there, watching them amusedly. "Sorry for… Interrupting, but you're going to have to leave." He smiled and flipped off a set of the lights. "You know—you don't have to go home but you can't stay here."

"Yeah…" Liz said, embarrassed. "I should get back to the Evanses', anyway. Don't want to wake them up when I come in." She stood, and Michael followed. Just as they pulled the door shut behind them, the inside lights flipped off. Michael went to pull Liz closer, but she stepped away a little, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"I should get back," she repeated, looking up at him apologetically and running her hand through his hair. "I'm pretty tired, Michael."

He nodded, heart sinking. She smiled and stood on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek before stepping away again.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully. He nodded and tugged softly on her hair.

"Tomorrow."


	15. 15

Chapter 15

The next day, Michael had what he referred to as the dead shift. It started right after the breakfast rush, so there was basically nothing to do for several hours except twiddle your thumbs and draw in the grease on the grill's surface. He leaned against the grill and looked out at the mostly empty dining room, failing to stifle his yawn. This was always the worst shift. Maria headed over, slipping her order pad into the pocket of her apron.

"What's up, SpikeBoy?" she asked, leaning against the window. He shrugged. "What's going on with Liz and you?"

He looked at her sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Maria scoffed. "It's called women's intuition, Michael. You really like her, don't you?"

Michael ignored her comment and looked out into the restaurant. "I…just missed her, okay?"

She laughed in disbelief. "Oh my god. You don't just like her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael demanded. Maria grinned.

"You're in love with my old best friend!" she exclaimed, doing a little dance. Michael looked around frantically.

"Shut up!" he hissed. "Shut up!"

Maria froze, but continued giggling. "Michael Guerin and Liz Parker! Priceless!" She sobered a little. "Sorry. Go for it, SpikeBoy. She likes you too."

"She does not," Michael said, feeling his face heat up. "Not like that."

Maria put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Do not speak to me like that, Michael Guerin. You are not the possessor of women's intuition. I am. And therefore, I can tell when one woman likes one man. And Liz is that one woman and you are that one man. So grow a pair and do something about it already." She went to leave, but then returned. "Just…don't kiss her in the Crashdown?"

"Why?" Michael demanded, remembering last night.

"For one thing, a kiss just isn't as romantic when you're standing four feet from a vat of hot oil. And it probably violates some sort of health codes to have a cook kiss a waitress. And it's been done before." She rolled her eyes and headed off to take the Evanses' order, muttering something about stupid men. Michael shook his head and looked up again, into the restaurant. Someone leapt in front of the window, and Michael stumbled backwards a few steps before catching himself. Liz laughed and rested her chin on her hands, watching him through the window.

"I didn't scare you, did I, Michael?" she asked innocently.

"Wh-are you kidding me? I don't get scared."

"Good. How do I look?" She stepped backwards, to allow him to look her over. She was wearing one of the uniforms that waitresses at the Crashdown wore, except…it didn't look so tacky on her. There was something about the way the apron was draped across her hips…the way the bottom of her skirt swayed invitingly… Michael didn't even trust himself to look at the top part of her outfit. He cleared his throat, which had constricted mysteriously, and looked away.

"You look—fine. Great." He tapped the spatula on the surface of the grill. Could he look her in the eyes after checking her out so thoroughly? He glanced up. She was grinning, and her eyes were shining with…a knowing light. So she knew what he'd been doing. He felt his face burning. "So, uh…you're working here?"

She shrugged. "It was this or the Pizza Pan. And…as much as I love karaoke…" she trailed off and made a face. "I figured I was best suited for working here. At the Crashdown. You know…since I have the menu, like…memorized."

"You still do? I mean, even after all these years?"

"You don't exactly forget something called 'blood of alien smoothie', Michael," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You'd think that just the names of some of these things would be enough to make tourists head for the hills."

"And instead they come running this way."

She shook her head and turned around to face the customers. "I'll see you later," she said, heading towards a table. Michael followed her with his eyes, then had to force himself to look away. A disbelieving laugh from the counter drew his eyes towards Alex, who was sitting there, smearing syrup across his plate.

'I believe you were just checking her out, my man," Alex said, not looking up.

"I was not," Michael said defensively, wishing desperately that there was an order to fill.

"I saw your eyes head south, Guerin," Alex grinned. "A few times there."

"I was looking at the floor. Maria needs to learn how to sweep." Just drop it, Alex, Michael begged him silently. He smirked and obeyed his silent order, allowing Michael to slink back into the kitchen.

After a long day, Michael didn't usually have the patience to sit at a booth and talk, but today Liz was sitting there, so he slid in next to her, ignoring Maria, who he had to push past in order to claim the seat. She winked at Liz and sat next to Max. Liz leaned her head on the back of the seat with a little moan.

"I'm too old for this," she complained. Michael snorted and poked her in the stomach. She shrank away and glared at him.

"You're not exactly grey yet, Parker," he informed her, holding out a strand of her hair for inspection. "Oh, wait. What's this?" He expected her to knock his hand away, but instead she just made a face.

"Stop caressing her hair, Michael," Maria teased. Liz whipped her head around to glare at her, but Michael took a different approach, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, twining his free hand pointedly in her long locks.

"You're not the boss of me," he said snottily. Liz caught on and reached up to wrap some of his hair around her finger, and Michael had to struggle to keep his eyes from sliding closed.

"Yeah," Liz added, then began giggling for no reason. Girls. Maria rolled her eyes and leaned on Max.

"You remember when we couldn't keep our hands off of each other?" she purred, rubbing her hand across his chest.

"Looks like you still can't," Liz said, arching an eyebrow.

"Details," Maria said dismissively, shrugging. They all laughed again, and Liz pulled her hand away, her action reminding Michael that his was still entangled in hers. He smiled sheepishly and folded his hands on the table.

"Hey Michael," Max said, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Why don't you take Liz to the trailer and show her your sketches?"

Michael shot Max a deathglare, but Liz looked up at him hopefully. "Could I? I mean, could you show me? Please?"

What was he supposed to do, when she was looking at him like that? You just didn't say no to Liz Parker. He sighed heavily. "All right. Come on." He stood and offered his hand, which she took, and followed him over to his bike. Liz stood there for a second, until he handed her the extra helmet he carried.

"You have a motorcycle," she said quietly, standing there and holding the helmet.

"I do. Come here." She stepped closer, and he slid the helmet carefully onto her head, making sure the strap was fastened under her chin. "Get on."

"I've never been on one before…" Liz said hesitantly. Michael had to laugh.

"It'll be fine-I've been riding for a year, and she's never given me any problems. Just get on and hold on to me."

Liz sighed and followed his directions, and he drove them to the trailer. If he weren't such a good driver, Liz's firm grip around his waist would have sent the two of them flying off the road, but fortunately, he managed to keep his mind on the road and not on the pretty brunette hiding her face in his back.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, strapping their helmets to the seat.

"No…" she said, sounding surprised.

"I'm a good driver. Now come on." He took her hand once more and started to lead her inside, but she stopped. He turned back, to see her inspecting the trailer nervously.

"Is he in there?" She asked, biting on her lower lip. Michael turned around to look at the sardine can he called home one more time. There was really no way to tell—you never knew where Hank had left his truck the night before.

"No," he said decisively. It was the most likely answer, anyway. "Come on."

She allowed him to lead her into the cramped space he'd called 'home' for the past eight years, but this time they both froze when they heard a football game on the television. Michael took a few steps towards the chair, and jumped backwards when the balding fat man in it spun around, leering at Michael when he noticed the pretty girl standing behind him.

"Hey, Mickey," he said, winking. "Who's this?"

"A friend," Michael said, stepping in front of Liz to shield her from Hank's gaze. "We're going to my room."

"Oh, of course." He held up his hands. "I'll stay in here. You want me to turn the volume up so I don't hear anything?"

Michael narrowed his eyes. What was he getting at? "…No…"

Hank nodded in pretend understanding. "So you're a quiet fuck," he whispered to Liz. She stepped back as through she'd been slapped. "It's a shame," Hank continued. "I like my women loud." He turned back to the game, waving them off. "Whatever. Get on with…getting it on or whatever kids are calling it."

Liz just stood there, frozen in place, until Michael took her hand and tugged on it gently. She looked up at him blankly, and then shook her head as if to clear it, then followed him back to his room.

"Hey Mickey," Hank called as they were leaving the room. "If she don't wanna go with you, you can always leave her out here with me." He turned around and winked at Liz. "Bet I could get a squeak out of her."

Michael clenched his fist a few times, trying to get his powers under control, and pushed Liz into his room, surreptitiously using his powers to lock the door.

"Sorry…" He began, not knowing what else to say. "I—didn't know he'd be here. And…he's…" He looked around his room. How would you apologize for something like that? For someone like that? Liz wrapped her arms around her middle and forced a smile.

"It's fine."

Michael nodded and looked around his room again, wishing he'd had time to at least move his dirty clothes. Self-consciously, he pulled the comforter up on the bed, giving it some semblance of being made. Liz smiled and sat.

"I have a birthmark shaped like a bear."

"This I've gotta see. Where is it? Can I see it?"

"Just under my shoulder blade…"

"Let's see."

Liz laughed and sat up, pulling her shirt up so he could see. Sure enough, right under her right shoulder blade was the unmistakable shape of a tiny bear-not just the head, either-the entire body of a bear, shrunk down so that it would fit on Michael's thumbnail. He reached out and brushed a finger across it, and Liz shivered, quickly yanking her shirt back down. She lay back on her stomach, as did Michael.

"Sorry…"

"For what? Oh. No. It was…I got the chills, is all." She smiled.

"Oh. Hey, you're not going home, but isn't your dad going to be worried?"

"No. Whenever he…" She looked away. "He leaves for a day, then comes back and acts like nothing happened.

Michael was silent for a while, but resumed talking when he was afraid she was going to sleep. Their conversation went on like this until Michael looked at the clock and realized that it was nine o'clock.

"It's probably safe now," he said, yawning for the hundredth time that night and looking over at Liz. She laughed.

"Finally."

"Want me to walk you home?"

"Michael, I have been awake for twenty-four hours. I am not walking home right now."

"Then what are you planning on doing?" he asked, though he had a hunch. She looked at him and rolled onto her side, curling up a little.

"I'm sleeping right here. Don't try to move me, either. I may look small but you'll never lift me once I've gone all limp."

"I've done it before," he replied, sticking his tongue out at her.

"You want to carry me home, be my guest. I'll just be asleep…" she let out a small yawn and almost immediately was asleep. Michael laughed and pulled his blanket up so it covered her over, then lay down next to her. She wouldn't have a problem with it-it was his bed, and she was dead to the world, anyway.

"You remember—" Michael began, and Liz nodded, making the rest of his sentence unnecessary. He sat next to her on the bed, and they said nothing for a few minutes. Hank came thudding down the hall, stopping in front of Michael's door.

"Hey Mickey, I'm goin' out for the night—I'll be at the bar, if your girl gets bored with just you." He heard the smirk in his foster father's voice, and felt Liz tense next to him. She didn't relax until they heard the door slam shut. Michael stood, pacing back and forth, clenching his fist in an attempt to control his powers. He felt them spiraling rapidly out of control, so he directed them as far away from Liz as possible. A lamp on the other side of his room blew up, and Liz leapt off the bed, startled. She didn't ask for an explanation, and he didn't offer one, so they stood there for a few more minutes, silent.

Finally Liz spoke. "So where's your sketchbook?" she asked, looking around. Michael strode over to his closet (not much of a stride, really—it was more like a big step and a half) and tugged the book out from under some dirty clothes, holding it behind him protectively.

"Right here."

"Can't I see it?" she asked with a shy smile, tilting her head to the side.

"Nope."

"Come on, Michael," Liz pleaded, making a lunge for it. He dodged her, and she tried again, still without success. She stepped away, obviously rethinking her approach. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm not being a jerk. This is my property and I'm allowed to say who can and can't look at it."

Liz rolled her eyes and stepped closer, digging her fingers gently into his stomach. Nothing. "Not ticklish. Nice try, though."

"Please? One picture."

He pretended to consider it, then shook his head. Liz crossed her arms and sat on the floor, pushing a shirt out of the way.

"Fine," she said, sticking her nose up in the air. "I'll bet you're not even that great, anyway."

Dammit. Reverse psychology. Max used to pull it on him all the time, but he had never learned to resist it. He set the book down on the bed and got to his knees, edging towards Liz.

"What was that?"

"I said you probably aren't even that great of an artist," Liz taunted, getting to her knees as well, and holding out her arms defensively. Michael went to tackle her, but she somehow managed to knock him to the ground first, and held his arms to the floor, grinning. "And you also suck as a wrestler."

Michael knocked her elbow, sending her toppling to his chest, then rolled the two of them over, so that she was now pinned under him

"No I don't," he said simply, He held both of her wrists in one hand, so that his other hand was free, and began tickling her. Just like always, Liz immediately began giggling and trying to push him off, to no avail. Suddenly, her eyes clenched shut and a small cry of pain escaped her lips. Michael froze immediately, getting off of her. "Did I hurt you! I'm sorry! What'd I do? Are you okay?"

Liz got to her knees, holding her side. For a moment, her eyes looked like a trapped animal's, but then an idea flashed behind them, and she leapt to her feet, lunging for the sketchbook. She retrieved it and held it behind her, giggling as he got to his feet.

"You may have the strength, but I've got the agility and the speed, baby," she taunted. Michael rolled his eyes. When she saw that he wasn't heading for her, she took the sketchbook out from behind her and ran her hand along the thick cover. Michael expected her to flip through it, in celebration of her triumph, so he sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard in defeat. But Liz didn't open it, instead sitting cross-legged in front of him.

"May I?" she asked, her dark eyes seeking permission.

"Weren't you going to, anyway?"

"No." She looked surprised. "Like you said, Michael, this is your property. I'm not going to leaf through it unless you say I can."

"Oh." Interesting. "Then, go ahead."

Liz looked down at the book, then went up and leaned against the headboard, sitting next to him. He looked away, bracing himself for whatever reaction she might have to seeing herself covering the pages of his sketchbook, but he heard nothing. He looked down at her. She was transfixed by the first page, studying it carefully. This one wasn't even of her—it was of the tree he'd been sitting under that first night, with a streetlight in the distance. Anxious to just get it over with, Michael took hold of the corner of the page, breaking the spell. Liz looked up at him.

"There are other pages," Michael said softly.

Liz smiled and turned the page. This was of the Crashdown during the dinner rush—he'd drawn it a few months ago. He saw the corners of Liz's mouth turn up, and she turned the page again. Michael closed his eyes—he knew the next picture by heart. It was the one he'd drawn that day in class—of Liz laying back in the swing. He heard a soft gasp of surprise, and looked at her again. She turned the page again, and looked at the rest of the pictures—all of her. She looked down at the picture he'd drawn when she'd first come back—when she was looking at the stars. It was rough—there hadn't been much light—but it was of Liz.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, eyes shimmering. "Michael…" she began, then trailed to a stop, not knowing what to say. He slid his fingers through her silky charcoal hair and tilted her chin up. She bit her lip for a moment, but then smiled and let her eyes slide closed.

Their lips brushed against each other, cautious at first, but growing bolder with every second that they were touching. He slid his tongue across her lips, seeking deeper access, which she granted, smiling against him. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth and bit it softly, and he felt a slight tremor run through her body. Their tongues did a soft, slow dance to music no one could hear. He could have stayed like this forever, but all too soon, their lungs began to protest, and they had to pull apart.

Liz looked down at the forgotten sketchbook and closed it, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He ducked down a little, and saw that she was blushing. He caught her chin, pulling her up to look at him. She smiled shyly as their eyes locked, touching her lips. In that moment, it seemed like he understood her perfectly. He pulled her tightly to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They sat there for a while, clinging tightly to each other until finally, Liz pulled away, and he noticed that she was pinching the soft skin on the inside of her wrist.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling her hand away.

"I guess… I'm the one who thinks this is a dream now," she said, smiling sheepishly. They laughed, and she slid the sketchbook away.

"You know the only way to make sure it isn't?" Michael asked, looking away.

"What?" Liz asked, though she probably knew what he was thinking.

"We'd have to do it again."

"Oh…" Liz whispered, nodding. "Well, anything in the name of science, right?" She twisted so she was sitting in his lap and lowered her head to his.

"Anything," Michael agreed, before allowing her to capture his lips.

This kiss was different from the other one they'd just shared. Michael found himself growing dizzy, and clinging onto Liz, even as her grip on him tightened. Then he felt a small tug at the back of his mind, and a rush of images and feelings flooded him.

Two children in a tight farewell hug. Crushing torment as the car pulled away from the only place she'd ever felt safe. Tentative hope as she is introduced to her foster parents. A few good memories-happiness. But then things take a darker turn. A nasty-looking man with a bald head reaching down to touch her. Confusion and pain. Humiliation. Terror as she is pinned down while a thick, burning liquid is poured into her mouth—

Liz broke away, scrambling away from him and trembling.

"What was that? What the hell did you do?" She demanded.

Michael took a few steps forward, and Liz scrambled backwards some more, nearly falling off the bed. She caught herself and stood there. She was—afraid of him?

"Liz," he coaxed. "I don't know what just happened, but no one's going to hurt you."

"I kn-know," she replied, chest heaving. Michael moved forward and took her in his arms, and they both sank to the floor. Liz was trembling and sobbing, and for a terrifying second, Michael thought that whatever had just happened, was alien-related and that it had hurt her. Then he realized that, although it was obviously alien-related, Liz was just scared, not hurt. She put her head on his chest, and he lay back, bringing her with him. He stroked her head while she calmed down. When he felt the last of her trembling subside, he looked up and brushed at a tear trail.

"What were those pictures?" he asked her. "I mean, what were they of?"

She tried to bury her face in his chest, but he caught her chin, forcing her troubled dark eyes to focus on his.

"Liz?"

"That was…my life," Liz said, shrugging helplessly and pulling her chin away. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly.

"All of them? Who was that man?" He prodded, sitting up as well. She didn't answer, so he moved closer to her. "Liz, you can tell me. I need you to tell me."

"I…know," She said, not looking at him.

"So?"

"So, it's hard, Michael. I just want to forget. Why do you want to know, anyway? Morbid curiosity?"

"No. I…I don't know why. I just feel like I need to know. It's the same reason I asked about what happened when we were thirteen, Liz. Please. I care." She shivered, and Michael pulled her to him, taking her hands.

"In the beginning…" Liz began shakily. "…Everything was fine. The family was nice—like I said, there were a lot of kids there, and we got along great. I thought it was…okay. We did the things I guess other families did-you know, movies, ballgames, all that cheesy stuff."

"Sounds…good?"

Liz snorted. "Right. Then we had some sort of family reunion-they introduced me to this couple they called Aunt Lucy and Uncle Willie. The other kids were completely comfortable with them, but I…they were scary. That night, I was making more lemonade in the kitchen, while everyone else was in the living room watching some stupid slide show from someone's trip to Maine. I thought I was going to die of boredom. So I'm at the sink, and I feel someone come up behind me. It was Uncle Willie. He…" Her voice cracked and she looked around the room helplessly.

"He tried to-he. God. He tried to touch me." On his blank look, she elaborated. "The way you asked me once if my father touched me." He nodded. "I threw the pitcher of lemonade at him, and he started yelling, and Janice and Ed—my foster parents—came in, and Uncle Willie made up some stupid story about how I went all psycho and attacked him. They sent me up to my room. I…went down for breakfast the next morning, and they yelled at me and sent me back upstairs. I…had to stay there all weekend."

"In your room? You couldn't go anywhere else?"

"Um. I managed to sneak to the bathroom a few times, but…yeah. Then, Monday morning, they acted like nothing had happened, except they didn't wake me up until, like, five minutes before school, so I couldn't get breakfast, and I didn't have time to pack a lunch."

Michael shook his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the warm, faint smell of her shampoo.

"School was…it wasn't as good as it was here. I mean, there was no Alex, or Maria, or Max, or…you…" She blushed. "But there was this one teacher, and I think she kind of knew something was up. She took me out to lunch that day-told me to eat until I was full." Liz smiled. "But I didn't, because I didn't want her to catch on. But…then that was over, and the family pretended everything was normal for a while. Then, in the beginning of eighth grade, there was another 'family reunion', and Aunt Lucy and Uncle Willie were there, only this time they stayed overnight. I woke up that night because someone was opening my door-it was Uncle Willie. He tried to climb into the bed, but I jumped up and screamed, and the family ran in to see what was going on. He made up another dumb story about how he'd heard me crying in my sleep, and they bought it, because, I guess I had cried during the night, in the first few weeks. But luckily he didn't try anything else, and I didn't get into trouble."

"Is that all that happened? I mean, it was only occasionally, right?"

Liz said nothing, but slowly shook her head.

"Then what else did they do?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath and rolled up her sleeve. There were several small, circular scars dotting her shoulder. She looked away as he traced them gently. He knew what they were. He bore tons of them.

"Liz, these are—cigarette burns."

She nodded forlornly. "Janice smoked."

Michael squeezed her tighter and tilted her head up, gently brushing his lips against hers. The whole reason Liz'd had to leave Roswell, was to get away from that shit. She shouldn't have had to deal with it in her foster home. He clenched his fist several times, but again was unable to control himself, and directed his power towards his window. It shattered, and Liz yanked away from him.

"What keeps doing that?" she demanded. "First your lamp, now your window." She rose to her feet. "And where did those pictures come from? How did you see them?" Michael stood, but Liz stepped away from him, backing up against the door before he could touch her.

"Liz…" he began, but she opened the door, looking at him strangely.

"What are you?" she whispered. He had no answer for her—could only drop his eyes to the floor as she took backwards steps out of his room, then turned and stalked out of the trailer.

Michael turned around and punched his wall, letting out a roar of pure rage, and then fell to the floor, holding his head in his hands.


	16. 16

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat

Email: 

Rating: PG-13 now, for a bit of language, violence and I think…what the ratings people call adult situations. thinks

Genre: Drama/Angst

Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Now becoming full-blown Polar.

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g And there's a line in here somewhere, about a third eye or ear, that's from the show, which isn't mine. I just thought it was hilarious, so I turned it polar and stuck it in here.

Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.

Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.

Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Chapter 16

Michael didn't move from his seat on the floor—just sat there for hours after Liz had quietly left the trailer, formulating a plan. What if he could convince Maxwell to let him tell her? Normally, Michael wouldn't feel the need to get Max's permission for anything, but this was big. Max had gone against everything they'd agreed upon when he'd healed Maria that night in the park.

One night, about three years after Liz had left (it was funny how Michael had begun to measure time by how long Liz had been gone), he'd been sitting under the tree in the park, just looking at the sky and thinking. Suddenly, two shots rang out nearby and, for some reason, Michael had leapt to his feet and ran towards the noise. He saw Max kneeling over a still figure half-hidden in the trees, and as he got closer, he heard him pleading with the figure to open her eyes. It was Maria. Michael sank to his knees next to Max when he saw the hole in her abdomen, but had yanked Max's hand away from her.

"What are you doing?" he'd hissed.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Max had demanded, tears in his voice. "I'm healing her."

"You can't!" Michael had exclaimed. "Maxwell, we agreed—"

"I don't care what we agreed! She's dying, Michael. I have to save her." He'd paused, looking at the quickly-paling blonde next to them. "You lost Liz, Michael. Don't let me lose Maria."

Michael had sighed in disgust and rocked back onto his feet, watching but not approving. When Maria had come to, she'd been (of course) full of questions, and Michael had half-listened as Max explained their origins. At first Maria had been freaked, and run off, but she hadn't told anyone, and after a few days, Michael had seen the two of them embracing. They'd been together ever since.

Michael had been pissed at Max for telling a human their secret, and he would feel like a hypocrite if he did it without letting the other two know. So he'd talk to them tomorrow.

The next thing Michael knew, it was mid-afternoon, and his body was aching from sleeping on the floor. He groaned and slowly stretched out, flexing his muscles, then stood, heading over to the Evanses' without even thinking about breakfast.

Michael ran up the steps and knocked on the door. Behind it, he heard Max's old video game system play the music it always did when someone lost, then heard Max protesting.

"I'm never playing you again!" he yelled as he opened the door, then turned to look at who it was. "Oh. Hey, Michael. Liz is in here."

"Hey," Michael said, trying to look into the living room. "No, I need to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay." Max held open the door for him, and Michael stepped inside. Liz got up from the chair she'd been sitting in and pushed past him. "Where you going?" Max asked, grabbing her elbow. She shrugged him off—she never liked being caught like that.

"Just going for a walk," she said, not looking at Michael. "I'll be back later."

"O…kay," Max drawled, looking after her strangely, then kicked the power button on the television, plunging them into silence. "So. What'd you want to talk about?" he asked, getting comfortable in the chair Liz had just vacated. Michael perched on the couch.

"Me and Liz…kissed last night."

"Finally!" Max muttered, shaking his head. "Guess that means Maria wins our bet."

"Excuse you?" Michael demanded.

"I said that you'd take longer than a week, but Maria insisted that it'd be sooner." He leaned forward, grinning. "Five bucks for me if you made the first move, though."

"Wha…ah… Yeah." Michael rubbed his eyebrow. "You were betting on us?"

Max shrugged. "It was just a little joke, man. Nothing big. Okay, so you kissed last night, and…?"

"And…I saw some things." He looked down. "Like, memories. Feelings. Stuff like that. Do you ever get that with Maria?"

"Yeah. All the time. What'd you see?"

Michael shrugged. Liz wouldn't want Max to know. "Just stuff," he said nonchalantly. "But…Hank was being…Hank last night when we went inside, and he pissed me off. I…blew up a lamp."

"Did you hurt Liz?" Max asked. Michael shook his head vigorously.

"Of course not. But then later, I blew out my window." He sighed. "She knows something's up."

Max nodded, finally understanding. "And now she's mad at you, and you want to tell her what we are."

"Yeah."

"So why don't you?"

Michael shrugged. "She'll want proof," he said, thinking quickly. "And I'll end up just blowing something up. So I need your help."

"Alright. You wanna tell her now?" Max stood, and Michael followed.

"As soon as possible," he said decisively, and they left, heading for the park.

After about half an hour of searching, they found Liz wandering down a trail that wound in and out of the trees, and approached her carefully. Liz looked up when she heard them, and stopped, crossing her arms in front of herself.

"Hey, could you come with us?" Max asked quietly. "We need to tell you something."

"Can't you tell me here?" She asked, looking around the trees.

"No," Max said, also looking around, as though he expected someone to leap out from behind a tree and cart them off. "In private."

"Uhm…okay," She said, looking nervous. "Where, then?"

Max looked around once more, and this time his eyes landed on the bathroom building. "Over there," he said, pointing towards it. Liz scoffed, but didn't disagree, and Max led the two of them into the men's room. Michael checked to make sure that all of the stalls were empty, while Max used his powers to seal the door. Liz leaned on the sink, still looking nervous. Max returned to them and nodded at Michael, telling him to get on with it.

"Liz…" Michael began, his heart beating wildly. What if she became afraid of him when she heard what he was? Or what if she was disgusted? Michael didn't know which would be worse. What if she ran away and he never saw her again? He cleared his throat and went on. "You remember…how you asked me last night, what I am?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of him.

"Well…I'm not human."

"Then what are you?" she asked in a trembling voice, then smiled a little. "Martian?" When Michael didn't say anything, the smile faded, and she tilted her head to the side.

"Sort of…" Michael said, stepping away from her. "I'm…we're not from here. You know the '47 crash?"

"The weather balloon?"

"Yeah…that wasn't a weather balloon. It was a ship."

"That's crazy," Liz said, shaking her head.

"No. It's true. That was a ship. …Our ship."

"Our ship?" Liz asked, glancing at Max, who nodded. "No. You're—this is a joke. Ha, ha. Very funny, guys." She edged towards the door, and the two of them watched quietly as she tugged on it, to no avail. She looked back up at them in confusion and fear.

"Liz…" Max said quietly. "It's true." He put his hand to the wall, and the tiles changed from the dirty gray color to a sparkling blue. Liz jumped backwards, squeezing her eyes shut for a minute. Apparently, when she opened them and saw that the tiles were still blue, she realized that they were telling the truth. She reached out a tentative finger to touch the wall, then pulled it back with a soft gasp, looking at the two of them with dawning belief.

"Okay…" she said slowly, piecing it all together in her mind. "But the crash was, like, fifty-some years ago. So you…"

"We were in these pods," Max explained. "Somehow, they survived the crash, and we stayed in them until we…came out, and we looked like we were five or six years old."

Liz nodded quietly, looking at the floor. Max changed the color from blue back to the dirty gray. She looked back up. "So what do you really look like? I mean, the image of three-foot-tall little men with huge eyes in silver spacesuits…that's bull, isn't it?"

Max laughed. "I don't know. This is what we looked like when we were born. Human."

"Yeah, except for the third eye," Michael added, kneeling to tie his shoe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Liz studying the back of his head. He stood back up. "Kidding."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, blushing. "Jerk."

Michael and Max exchanged glances, and Michael stepped forward. Encouraged when she didn't step away, he put his arm around her shoulder. Michael unsealed the door and pushed it open. He stepped away from her but took her hand, and they continued walking, having forgotten all about Max.


	17. 17

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat

Email: 

Rating: PG-13 now, for a bit of language, violence and I think…what the ratings people call adult situations. thinks

Genre: Drama/Angst

Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Polar.

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.. cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g

Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.

Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.

AN: Oh! Historic moment or the point where everything unravels. For the first time in 17 chapters, I'm putting in a section that's in Liz POV. I know it doesn't exactly flow with the way everything else is, but I'm thinking that it's vital. We'll see how it goes. Also, there are only a few more chapters to this, I think. I guarantee at least one more, but I think that this story shall be finished by chapter 20.

Dedication: A birthday present for Dreamwalker75. Or, depending on what I manage to do, a get-well-soon present. We'll see. grin

Things Aren't Always What They Seem

Chapter 17

They wandered through the park for a while, not speaking. Michael was just enjoying having Liz close after so long. Their strides still matched, which was interesting. Liz seemed to be memorizing the way everything looked, but Michael was memorizing Liz. The sunlight fell through the leaves and settled in her hair, it seemed, making her glow a silvery-black. He wished he had his sketchbook with him—he could just picture Liz sitting on a park bench, surrounded by the shimmering golds, browns, and reds of the autumn beauty around her. Not that any of it could ever compare to the glittering radiance that emanated from Liz herself. As if on cue, Liz took a seat and patted the wood next to her. He sat and put his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him with a soft sigh-a quiet puff of breath-and smiled.

"So…" She began. The tone in her voice made it obvious that she had something to say, so Michael didn't speak. He had a feeling that he knew what she was thinking, though, and a part of him didn't want her to have to talk about something that distressed her the way this did. But another part of him knew that both of them needed to talk this out—for his sanity, and for hers. After a while, she finally gathered her nerve. "Did you see everything that I saw?" she asked anxiously.

"I don't know. I saw you and me—just before you left, and then I saw you meeting the family, and then that man—your Uncle Willie."

"That's it?" She asked, relaxing visibly. Something occurred to Michael, and he clenched his fists, trying to refrain from blowing anything up.

"No. Who was holding you down—what were they doing to you?"

Liz sighed and sat up. "When I went into tenth grade, the family had this…thing. Uncle Willie and Aunt Lucy came over and everyone except Janice went down into the basement. She took me upstairs and pulled out a dress she'd bought for me. She told me to put it on and that she'd do my hair—that we were going to an important ceremony tonight. I thought something was…weird, but I didn't say anything, since they'd been really nice to me lately." She didn't speak for a long time, so Michael took a closer look at her. She was staring at the ground with her lower lip firmly between her teeth, absently wringing her hands. Gently, Michael took one of her hands, nudging her out of her memories. Liz jumped and looked up at him, as though she'd forgotten he was there.

"Once she was done, she led me down to the basement. Before I could really do anything, the oldest son grabbed me from behind and pushed me down onto a table." Her voice faltered a little, but she continued. "Some of the other kids held me arms and legs, and Aunt Lucy pinched my nose shut. Uncle Willie waited until I had to breathe, then, when I opened my mouth, he poured this…this liquid down my throat. It burned…" She said, eyes filling with tears at the memory.

"What was it?" Michael asked.

"Once they let me up, they told me that it was poison, and that if I wanted to be a member of their family, I had to die for it."

"What?" Michael demanded. He felt a burning in his palm and made a fist. She placed her free hand on his forearm and went on. "So I ran up to the bathroom and made myself throw up until I couldn't anymore." Michael felt his powers surge as his mind conjured up an image of Liz kneeling weakly next to a toilet.

"Later that night, Janice came up to my room and told me that I'd disappointed her very much and that I'd never be a member of their family. She said that it hadn't really been poison that they made me drink. Then she left. Later that night, I was going to sneak downstairs to get something to eat, but the door wouldn't open. She'd locked me in," she finished in a disbelieving tone. She shivered. "Things just went downhill from there."

Michael found himself staring at the now-silent brunette sitting next to him. She'd been through so much since he'd last seen her, and she was still the same girl he'd known—quiet and thoughtful, and more worried about what the people around her were feeling than what she was. But he hadn't been there when she was kneeling over the toilet, or crying on her bed, or going hungry locked in her room for an entire weekend: all because he'd taken her to the hospital that night. Max could have healed her, but he couldn't. Because Michael hadn't tried harder to keep her awake.

Liz twisted so that she was sitting in his lap, and then put her arms around his neck, resting her forehead on his.

"It wasn't your fault," she said quietly, staring earnestly into his eyes. He went to look away, but she followed. "Michael," she said firmly. His eyes found hers. "Repeat after me." She smiled slightly. "I, Michael Guerin—"

He glared at her. She rolled her eyes and poked him in the chest. "I, Michael Guerin…" she prompted again.

"I, Michael Guerin," he repeated sullenly, figuring he'd just give her what she wanted.

"…do hereby acknowledge and accept…"

"Hereby?" Michael mimicked. She glared at him again, and he shrugged in defeat. "…do hereby acknowledge and accept…"

"…that what happened to the beautiful, talented, kind, loveable Elizabeth Parker…" she grinned and tossed her hair.

"…that what happened to the beautiful, talented, kind, loveable, modest Elizabeth Parker…"

She made a face at him and continued. "…was absitively, posilutely, one-billion percent none of my fault."

"…was absitively, posilutely, one-billion percent none of my fault."

"Thank you." She placed a hesitant kiss on his lips.

"Let me just say that no one else would ever be able to get me to say the words 'absitively, posilutely'."

"I know." She hugged him tightly and returned to her seat on the bench. "Feel better?"

"What, now that you've assured me that the fact that you were abused even words after you left, wasn't my fault?"

She gave him a level look.

"Yes. If it will make you happy."

"Good." She interlaced her fingers with his and brought his hand up to her mouth, placing gently kisses on his knuckles. Then, without warning, she leapt up and tapped his elbow.

"What?"

She looked around, eyes wide. "You're It," she replied, before darting off. Michael shook his head in disbelief, grinning, and then jumped to his feet and gave chase.

When he finally found her—hiding behind a tree and looking out into a clearing—he snuck up behind her and tackled her—holding her to him once more so she wouldn't get hurt. She'd looked frightened for a moment, but then laughed and punched his shoulder.

"We're playing Tag, not football," she said, eyes flashing playfully.

"This is Tag. Just…my own version."

"Okay. So I'm It. Let me up."

Michael laughed and rolled off her. Before he could get to his feet, Liz barreled right into him, knocking him on his back. She smirked cockily and stretched out over him. "Tag."

"Yeah, you got me." But she hadn't pinned his arms down. He reached up and began poking her in the ribs. She immediately began giggling and writhing, but refused to give up her prize. Finally, she collapsed on top of him, resting her head on his chest while she caught her breath.

"Truce?" she murmured. Michael poked her one last time, and then put his arms around her back, holding her tightly.

"Truce," he agreed. "Now let me up."

Liz sighed heavily, but rolled off, onto the grass. He mimicked her defeated huff, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't make me tag you," she warned, jabbing a finger into his chest. He pinned her to the ground with his body, holding her arms captive.

"I dare you," he challenged. She pulled her lip between her teeth as she had before, but released it as soon as she realized what she'd done. Her tongue flitted out, nervously licking her lips. Michael took this as a cue of sorts, and moved closer. He pressed his mouth gently onto hers. He felt a small tremor run through her, just before she snaked her arms up around his neck. Michael pulled her closer, pressing his body tightly against hers, as if that could make up for all the time that he hadn't been anywhere near her. He broke away and rested his head on her forehead on hers, running his hand through her hair. She did the same to his, wrapping a strand of it around her finger, eyes glinting mischievously as she tugged gently on it.

"You're so mean," he said, rolling off her.

"I am not," she protested. "See?" She got to her feet and extended her hand to help him up. He didn't answer, and they headed back to the Evanses'.

They made it just in time for dinner, and slid into the two empty seats.

Michael saw Isabel shoot a questioning glance at Max, who nodded, his eyes now locked onto Liz's face. Isabel then smiled apprehensively at Liz, who returned the smile equally as nervously. Michael squeezed Liz's hand under the table, then realized that Isabel was still watching the two of them curiously. There were a few moments of awkward silence, and then Isabel spoke.

"So, have the two of you caught up yet?" she asked.

"Not quite," Michael said, just as Liz was replying in the affirmative. She cast a pleading look his way, but he didn't waver.

"Guess not," Liz said resignedly, making the blonde smile, and the meal went on.

As soon as they'd finished, Liz jumped up, the way she had when they were younger. Isabel stood, as though trying to stop her, but the girl wouldn't be deterred.

"You did the dishes last night," she said, trying to take Isabel's plate.

"Liz, you're a guest here!" Isabel exclaimed, trying to pull her plate away. "Do not make me bite you." Liz arched an eyebrow. "I'll do it," Isabel threatened.

"She will," Max added, examining his left forearm. "I've got a scar here…"

"Go look, Isabel ordered, finally wrenching her plate away. Liz sighed but obeyed, taking her seat. Max stuck his arm out to show her the scar, but she pushed it away, laughing.

Once Isabel had finished the dishes, they went into the living room, where Max stuck a video into the VCR.

"What's this?" Liz asked, leaning into Michael as the previews began. Somewhat surprised, he slid his arm around her.

"You'll see," Max said, his eyes sliding amusedly over the two of them as he sat in his father's chair. Isabel and flopped onto the far end of the couch after flipping the lights off. The name Stephen King faded onto the screen, and Liz groaned.

"You people are so weird," she said, turning her head so as not to see the screen. "Who actually likes these kinds of movies? Freaks…" she mumbled good-naturedly, but didn't press the issue. No one said anything else, and the movie played on.

Michael was startled awake by the loud, sudden hiss of the television screen becoming all static. He was disoriented for a moment, before he realized where he was—but that still left him with a mysterious weight in his lap. He looked down at the figure curled up next to him. Liz's dark head was resting on his legs, with her hand curled around his knee. His hand had somehow wound itself in her soft hair.

She stirred, obviously disturbed by the sudden noise as well. He hated to see her wake up from what must have been restful sleep, but she did, sat up, and looked around sleepily. Down at the other end of the couch, Isabel was waking slowly as well, but she was the only one who stood and turned the television off. Without saying a word, she stumbled away. Liz stood as well, but didn't leave.

"Lay down," she said hoarsely. Michael did, pressing his back as close to the back of the couch as he could, so there'd be room for her if she wanted to lie there too.

"I should go to Max's room, since he's out here…" she began reluctantly, her voice still sleepy. "But it's so far…"

"I'll be a gentleman," Michael teased, in a voice that was equally raspy as hers was. She rolled her eyes, but lay down anyway. It seemed like she was pressing closer to the edge of the couch instead of leaning into him. He pulled her closer, whispering, "You'll fall off."

She said nothing—if she wasn't already asleep, she was close. Michael lay awake a few minutes longer, remembering that night she'd passed out, then fallen asleep in his bed. It still felt right, having her so close. He let the warm, familiar smell of rain—of Liz—enfold him before he joined her in peaceful slumber.

He was in a room. Nothing was familiar.

Michael spun around, examining the room. It was small and dim—the late-evening sunlight and a small desk lamp were the only sources of light. There was someone at the desk—a small brunette. He took a few steps forward—it was Liz!

She was much younger than the girl Michael had just seen—she was about fourteen. He looked down at himself—he must be fourteen too: he looked smaller. He tried to put his hand on Liz's shoulder, to get her attention, but found he couldn't. Looking around for some other way to make his presence known, Michael realized that the walls were moving slightly—it was as though the angles were elastic. He stepped forward, another characteristic of the wall catching his eye. They were shimmering—blinking in and out of existence so quickly that you wouldn't notice it unless you were looking for it. He pressed his hand to the dingy blue wallpaper, half-expecting to be able to push his way through. But it was remarkably solid. Michael examined the room one last time. He'd seen scenery like this before. Not this room, of course—but the way the walls were…they were like this the time Isabel had somehow pulled him into a dreamwalk. Was this a dream, then?

Liz sighed and closed her textbook, then went over and sat on her bed, staring at the far wall. She didn't move for a while, but then Michael heard someone at the door and she jumped up in expectant fear. A tall but plump woman with thinning hair and an oddly sharp face stood in the doorway.

"Come on," she said coldly.

"Where?" Liz asked quietly.

"Don't talk back," the woman snapped, stalking down the stairs. Liz followed, and as Liz passed him, Michael stuck out his hand to touch her. She paused for a second, looking straight at him as though she saw him. But that passed, and she disappeared down the stairs.

Michael followed her to the top of the basement stairs. She paused again, and Michael noticed that she was trembling. He reached out his hand, wishing he could reassure her that she'd be fine—or throw her free of this nightmare. The woman, halfway down, turned around to glare impatiently at Liz before she continued.

At the foot of the stairs, two young men grabbed her and held her still. They looked exactly like the sharp-faced, plump woman, except there was nothing plump about them. They exuded strength—it nearly colored the air around them. They might have stood a fighting chance in the looks department, except for their eyes—which were small and hard—colorless and cold. They must be Liz's 'brothers', then: making the woman her foster mother.

Liz struggled briefly, but, judging by the defeated look on her face and the confidence with which the boys were gripping her upper arms, she knew it was useless. An ugly, balding man came to stand in front of Liz, sneering at her. He looked nothing like the boys that were holding Liz captive, except for his eyes. They were equally cold, and eerily familiar. Michael remembered with sudden clarity that man hovering over Liz, pouring that awful stuff down her throat. It was Uncle Willie. He ran at the man, trying to knock him away, but succeeded only in throwing himself to the floor.

Before Liz could do anything, the man had reached out and yanked her shirt over her head. She made a small cry of protest, and tried to cover herself with her newly freed arms, but the boys had resumed their grip. Just as quickly at before, the man reached out and pulled Liz's jeans to the floor. Her struggles became more wild, more instinctive, but, for all of her thrashing and whimpering, she got nowhere.

"We tried before, to make you one of us," the man said, pacing in front of her. "But you refused. At first, your parents were hurt, but the other day I realized—it's not your fault. You must be inhabited by an evil spirit." Liz opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a wave. "It's alright. You don't know any better. So tonight, we will cleanse you, and then you will be one of us."

It was written all over her face that Liz would rather die than be one of them—whatever they were—but she said nothing.

He took her silence as consent—perhaps even gratitude—and waved carelessly at the boys holding her arms. They dragged her over to a tub and held her under, not swayed by her pleading cries.

"The water's cold, is it?" the man asked with an air of plastic concern. He nodded at the boys, who lifted her out of the tub and dropped her into a chair. Michael wanted to go to her, but it felt like his feet were stuck. He'd long ago realized that this was one of Liz's memories, but he still wanted to stop it. Michael flung his arms to his sides and looked on in seething rage, counting the seconds until he could move again.

Uncle Willie lit a candle and went over to kneel in front of Liz. He was holding something in the flame, even as he chanted strange words to Liz. Then, with the swiftness he'd exhibited earlier, he'd pulled her knees apart and pressed something to the pale skin of her inner thigh. She howled in a frightening mixture of rage, pain, and panic, trying to get free, but he held tightly.

"First, cold, then hot," the man said reasonably. "It's the only way."

He pulled his hand away, holding the object over the flame once more. Michael couldn't watch anymore—he clenched his eyes shut, but couldn't block out Liz's sobs. He heard the woman—Liz's foster mother, pour something into a glass.

"Here, Liz," she said evenly. "Drink this."

"No!" Liz exclaimed, unable to hold back a few sobs.

"Just drink this, and we'll be done," she said patiently.

"Just leave me alone," Liz pleaded weakly chest heaving and tears staining her cheeks.

"She still won't do it," he heard one of Liz's other 'brothers', standing near him, whisper to another.

"Once a sinner, always a sinner," the other muttered back. "Even Uncle Willie can't save her."

Michael opened his eyes again. The woman went to dump the contents of the cup down a sink, and everyone was glaring at the trembling girl in the middle of the room.

"Get her out of her," Uncle Willie said in disgust. The two boys grabbed Liz once more and dragged her back up the stairs. Michael, having conveniently regained control of his own body, followed as quickly as possible, just barely sliding through her door as the older of the boys slammed it behind him.

She was still mostly naked, clutching her knees to her chest as she shivered on the floor. There was a scarlet mark on one of her arms, in the shape of a circle with an 'x' through it. Michael felt a vague burning in his hands—of his powers—but it disappeared. He reached over to pull a blanket off of her bed, expecting not to be able to do it. But he managed, and wrapped it tightly around her thin shoulders. She jumped and looked up in terror, but then saw his face. Confusion replaced fear in her features.

"It's a dream," Michael said. "This isn't real."

"B-but I'm s-so cold…" she hiccupped, still shivering. Michael got down next to her on the floor and managed to get inside the blanket, so that her body was pressed against his own.

He awoke with a start, and immediately felt Liz shivering. He shook her gently, and she, too, jumped. When she realized that Michael was awake, Liz brought her hands up to hide her face in shame.

"What'd you just see?" Liz asked, her voice mumbled by her fingers. Michael reached up and softly pulled her hands down, pressing his chin into the soft, warm spot between her shoulder and her neck.

"You know," he replied quietly, pulling her closer, as if to shield her from the horrors of the night. Yet they both knew that the only thing that was hurting her was the memory of the horrible people she'd been forced to endure.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Michael rolled up her sleeve and tenderly kissed the scar on her arm. "That's the worst they did to you, right?" he asked, still holding her tightly. "They never did anything like…rape you?"

"You have such a one-track mind," she admonished quietly.

"Did they?" His tone was all business.

"No."

"No? No one? Not even that man? None of your so-called brothers?"

"That was just about the last time Uncle Willie or Aunt Lucy spoke to me. Everyone else mostly ignored me. She paused. "Michael, do not dwell on this, okay? I'm here now, away from them. Just…stop. Before I get angry."

"Fine," Michael sighed. There was no use arguing with her now-not when they both were exhausted and still haunted by what they'd just seen. Liz squirmed a little.

"Could you…not hold me so tight?" she murmured, reaching down to stroke his hand. She must have known that, if she hadn't done that, he'd have pulled away entirely. But he loosened his grip, and Liz pressed closer to him. "What time is it?" she yawned.

Michael somehow managed to get his watch up to viewing level without letting go of Liz. "Four." She sighed and put her head back down with another yawn, and soon her breathing had evened out.

Michael felt familiar disgust with himself for not having been there to warm her when the nightmare had actually happened, and resolved to make up for it by protecting her from reliving the same horrors again. He didn't care what that meant—he'd do anything.

A few hours later, Michael slowly awakened, unsure of what had roused him. He lifted his head to look around, and saw Max and Maria standing in the doorway, watching the two of them trying to stifle their laughter. He glared at them and lightly shook Liz. She sighed and opened her eyes, blushing when she saw the two of them watching her and Michael.

"Good morning," Maria said cheerily, grinning at the two of them. "Sleep well?"

Liz sleepily flipped her off, then sat up and stretched, leaning back on Michael's legs. Unable to resist the temptation, Michael reached down and playfully grabbed her side, and she leapt up, glaring at him. He winked at Max, who came up stealthily behind her and grabbed her around the middle, tickling her more. Liz, still half-asleep but giggling nonetheless, tried to push him away, but finally threw herself to the floor to get away from him. He grinned and returned to Maria's side, while Liz glared at the three of them from the floor.

"Men," Maria said in mock-disgust, stepping forward to help Liz to her feet. "They just can't leave a girl alone." She dusted her old friend off, then gave her a sort of 'good morning' hug. "Are you going tonight?" She seemed to have forgotten that more information was necessary for that sentence to make sense.

"Going…where?"

"There's a dance at school tonight—celebrating the football team's undefeated season or something." She shrugged. "The Whits are playing."

"The who?" Liz asked, getting to her feet.

"No," Max said gently, as though he were speaking to a four-year-old. "The Whits."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I know that, egghead. Who are The Whits?"

Maria laughed. "That's Alex's band. They changed it once we hit high school. So are you going, Michael?"

He sat up. "I don't do dances."

Liz flung herself onto the couch next to him. "Pleeeeeeeease go," she begged. "Because then you can take me. I can't go on my own, since I don't go to school there, and I'm sure as hell not going with those two." She stuck out her lower lip. "Please? You don't even have to dance if you don't want to."

Michael rolled his eyes at her long-winded plea. "Fine. If you want to go, I'll take you."

Liz grinned triumphantly and threw her arms around him.

"Get a room," Max teased.

"What time is the dance?" Liz asked, pointedly ignoring his comment.

"We're leaving at eight." Maria waved her hand distractedly. "What am I saying? I'll have to come and help you pick out your outfit. Don't worry about what time it is. Anyway, I've got a shift at the Crashdown still. I'll come over after." Her eyes flashed. "I'll bring my best stuff. And I'm sure we can find stuff from Isabel's closet." She laughed excitedly. "You're going to look so hot!"

Liz blushed and stammered out a sort of protest, then quickly exited.

"Oh, and if you come over before the dance, Michael," Max said, mocking Maria. "I'll give you my leather hot pants and all that stuff—you'll have all the girls drooling over you." He leaped into the air and gave a little squeal. Maria punched him in the chest.

"He doesn't want all the girls drooling over him," Maria said in a tone of voice that clearly said that it should be obvious to him. "Just one little brunette in particular."

"You're right…" Max said. "Pity…she's not the drooling type."

Michael flipped them off the way Liz had, then stood and stretched.

"Seriously, did you sleep well?" Maria asked, grinning evilly. "Because you looked pretty comfy."

"Goodbye, Maria," Michael said, pushing past her.

Maria's voice followed him outside. "—all cuddled together…"

Liz looked down at her watch. Six forty-seven. She'd been sitting out on the porch, waiting for Max and Maria for thirty-two and a half minutes. She figured they must still be at the Crashdown. But just as she thought that, Max's Jeep pulled into the driveway, and Maria leapt out, dragging a huge duffel bag behind her.

"Are you moving in?" Liz asked with a grin, standinng to greet her.

"No. This is our stuff," she said, rolling her eyes. "What were you waiting out here for?"

"It's as good a place as any, isn't it?" Liz asked. "Better than playing video games." Max made a face at her over Maria's shoulder, and she returned it. Maria shook her head and pulled Liz into the house. "Is Isabel home?"

"I think so."

"Good," Maria said, thundering through the house and knocking on Isabel's door. She opened it, dressed in a robe. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready," she said.

"Good," Maria repeated, pushing her way into the room. "We're going to get ready too."

Isabel just kind of looked at her in fear for a second, but then smiled and shut her door. Maria had flung the duffel bag onto Isabel's bed and was now tearing the clothes out of it.

"What would look best on Liz?" she asked, mostly talking to herself. Maria uncovered a hideous (or so Liz thought) army-green miniskirt and eyed it for a second before dropping it like a hot rock. "You wouldn't want to wear that," she explained. "I wore that on my first date with Billy Whatshisface in tenth grade. Lasted a week. The guy slobbered like a dog. Not ideal." She shuddered and kicked the skirt away from her.

"What about this one?" Isabel asked, pulling a gold tube top out of the bottom of the bag. Liz looked at it and snorted.

"I have nothing to hold it up," she said, taking it from the girl and burying it under the still-growing reject pile.

"Yeah, it's uncomfortable as hell," Maria agreed. "I hate tube tops." She pulled out a sparkly red tank top, then flung it away. She looked at Liz, and then dove for the shirt, holding it out in front of her. "Oh!" she squealed. "This would look perfect on you."

Liz looked down. It was pretty, she had to admit. But there were no sleeves. Her arms would be exposed. Shit.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked, concerned. "Don't you like it?"

"Ye-no. I do. Just… My arms are… I have these…"

"Oh. Cosmetic stuff." She waved her hand in dismissal. "Isabel can fix it." Liz looked at her in confusion. "Michael and Max told you, didn't they?"

She nodded. "I didn't know they…told you."

Maria waved her hand again. "Oh yeah. A few years after you had to leave. Don't worry about your arms."

Liz bit her lip and nodded, forcing a smile. "So, what? Am I wearing this with my jeans?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Please, girl. You're wearing a skirt."

Isabel stood and rifled through her closet. "I have one that would go with…" She pulled out a long skirt with a flourish. "Yep." She pressed it against Liz's hips, studying it carefully. It was made of a sort of black, gauzy material, with something a little thicker underneath. The top layers and the hem were uneven and at odd angles, but it worked.

"It's so pretty," Liz said. "But it's too long." Damn. It was a really nice skirt.

Isabel snorted and waved her hand along the bottom hem of the skirt, and instantly, the whole skirt became smaller—it looked like it would fit Liz's smaller frame perfectly.

"Guess not," Liz mumbled, feeling sheepish.

"Now, the most important accessory," Maria said, dumping the rest of her bag onto the bed. "Shoes!"

Liz had to stop herself from rolling her eyes—she couldn't stand talk like that—but managed to not say anything, stepping back as Maria and Isabel held pair after pair up to the outfit they'd picked out for her. Finally, they decided on a pair.

"Okay. We've got you all set," Maria said, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "Now we dress."

The dressing commenced.

"So," Isabel said, pulling on a miniskirt and glancing up at Maria. "How goes it with my brother?"

"Oh, you know," Maria said innocently, wiggling her eyebrows. "Same old, same old. He gets to dance the funky chicken tonight."

"Why?" Liz asked. That was random.

"Just a bet we made," Maria said even more innocently, wiggling her eyebrows some more. "Of course, I owe him five dollars."

Isabel snorted. "Speaking of, Miss Parker… what's happening with you and Michael?"

Liz felt her face turning red. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Liz," Maria said. "We saw you two this morning. You don't spoon with someone on a couch if nothing's happening."

"It's nothing like that!" Liz exclaimed, her eyes going wide. She paused in pulling off her shirt, trying to figure out how to manage this without letting Maria see her scars. "I don't know…"

"Do you like him?" Isabel prodded.

Liz cursed the heat still rising into her cheeks. "Yes!" she said emphatically, then once more, a little less obvious. "Yeah. I do." She felt herself grinning like an idiot.

"Well that's obvious," Maria said, pulling on her own tank top. "And you know that he likes you."

Liz said nothing, studying her feet.

"Okay, girl," Maria said, stepping forward. "I admit it—I know you two have kissed. What's it like?"

How—you couldn't even put it into words. Liz blushed at the memory of their first kiss. How would you say that it made you feel like you were flying through space on a comet, without sounding like a moron. She shrugged.

"I never kiss and tell," she said, donning what she hoped was a mischievous grin.

"You little minx!" Maria shrieked, throwing the gold top at her. Liz dodged it and laughed. "Now put on that shirt, dammit, so we can get started on makeup."

Shit. "Isabel, do you think you could… do your thing now?" Liz asked hesitantly, turning to the tall blonde.

Isabel gave her a strange look. "Sure."

Liz turned so that Maria wouldn't be able to see, and then pulled her arm out of her shirt. Isabel looked at it for a moment in shock before putting her hand over it. Liz felt a slight tingling in her arm, and then Isabel pulled her hand away. Her skin was just as clear as it had been when she was thirteen. Liz breathed a sigh of relief and turned the other way, holding out her arm. This one had the burn from Uncle Willie—the night she'd remembered last night.

"Liz, what—" She began, but Liz cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. Isabel laid her hand on her arm and did the same thing as before. Now Liz had two scar-free arms. She grinned while inspecting the skin of either arm then pulled Maria's shirt over her head. Isabel was still looking at her in shock, but then snapped out of it, shaking her head vigorously. Maria watched the two of them for a few more seconds, and then leapt off of the bed, brandishing a large black bag.

"What's that?" Liz asked, though she had a feeling that she already knew. She backed away as Maria unzipped it.

"This is my makeup, of course," she said, digging through it. "Here," she decided, pulling out a dark pencil. "This eyeliner, and…" She pulled out several cases before settling on one. "…this eye shadow." She studied Liz's face. "Ugh. You make me sick. You don't need foundation or blush." She looked over at Isabel. "Though I doubt you'd need blush even if you didn't have that complexion."

Isabel snorted.

"Why?" Liz demanded.

"Whenever you're near Michael, your face, like, lights up."

"It does not," Liz protested, fidgeting with the skirt.

"Like a light bulb, baby," Maria laughed. "Spill."

"Even better…" Isabel said, pulling her desk chair up to the bed and grabbing the selected makeup from Maria. "Sit on the bed, and then spill."

Liz obeyed, letting Isabel put the makeup on her. "There's nothing to spill."

"You said you like him, right?" Maria prompted.

"Yes."

"Well…why? I know it's not because of his hair. How'd you two meet?"

Liz shrugged. She didn't know if Maria knew about Michael's foster father, and she sure as hell didn't want to be the one to tell her. "I went to the park one night, and he was there, and…we sort of talked for a little while. Then he forgot his lunch the next day, and I gave him some money."

"No way," Isabel decided, gently smudging the makeup across Liz's eyelids. "Michael would never take money."

Liz shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I told him it was a loan."

"Sneaky," Maria said appreciatively. Isabel laughed and blew gently on Liz's eyelids, then snapped the makeup case closed. Maria examined Liz's face and clapped her hands.

"Beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Now. Your hair."

Liz's hand immediately went to the top of her head. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing!" Maria exclaimed, fluffing the dark shiny locks. "Just…if we want Michael to trip over his own feet, it needs to be something different."

Liz bit her lip and allowed her friend to mess with her hair for a while. Finally Maria stepped back, as if in awe of her own brilliance. She looked over at Isabel, eyes shining. "Waves. Can you just…make it sort of wavy? Like—"

"Oh, yeah," Isabel said, stepping forward. She ran her hands through Liz's hair, and when she was finished, Liz's hair was tumbling down in soft waves. Maria grinned.

"Michael is going to drop dead at your feet," Maria said.

"I hope not," Liz mumbled. The other girls laughed. Maria stepped back.

"You're just missing one…thing. Isabel, do you have, like…some sort of necklace? Uhm….old-looking, maybe?"

Liz jumped up. "I do. It's in my bag. I can go get it." She headed towards the door, but Maria grabbed her arm.

"We don't want to run the risk of Michael seeing you," she whispered. "Isabel…"

"Yeah." She headed from the room, returning shortly with Liz's tattered backpack. She grabbed it and dug through one of the compartments. She pulled out an antique-looking pendant on an equally antique chain—it looked sort of lacy, except made of silver, with an oval-shaped emerald in the center. Maria took it gently.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Where'd you get it?"

"My grandma Claudia gave it to me when I was ten," Liz said, taking it and fastening it around her neck. "Just before she died." She pulled her hair free of the chain and sniffled.

"No crying," Maria ordered, hugging Liz. "You'll ruin your makeup, and we don't have time to redo yours and do our own."

Liz laughed and sat back on Isabel's bed to watch the other girls get ready. She tried to tell herself that the pterodactyls in her stomach were just because this would be her first real dance, and not because she was nervous about what Michael would think when he saw her.

Michael had agreed to Max's half-in-jest offer of borrowing some clothes, and had been ready for about forty-five minutes—just waiting with Max on the couch. He checked his watch for the sixth time in—five minutes, and sat back with a sigh. Max looked over at him.

"Dude, relax," he laughed. "They're girls."

Michael rolled his eyes and looked up towards the staircase. Maria and Isabel were hurrying down the stairs, and adopted poses like the women on The Price is Right. Sort of. Michael got to his feet.

"And now, it is our pleasure to introduce the new—"

"—but not necessarily improved—I mean, who could do such a thing?" Maria broke in.

"Miss Elizabeth Parker."

On cue, Liz appeared, biting on her lower lip. She descended the stairs, keeping her eyes averted. Once she reached the final step, she looked up into his eyes and took a nervous, ragged breath.

"Hello," Michael said, feeling a grin steal slowly across his face. Liz gave him a shy smile.

"Hi."

"Now that we've exchanged pleasantries," Maria said, pulling Max out the door. "Now it's time to go."

When they arrived, the dance was already in full swing. Maria and Max disappeared into the throes of people; Liz sort of hesitated and looked nervously at him. She looked oddly at home in the surroundings: the gym had been decorated to resemble a sort of fairy glade—large knobby tree trunks lined the walls and different shades of green crepe paper was strung across the ceiling, giving the feel of a thick canopy of leaves. There had been someone standing over the door with glitter, letting it rain down on the partygoers, and it was sparkling from inside her dark locks.

"You look great," Michael said. She blushed and smiled.

"This stuff…it's Isabel's and Maria's."

"It looks better on you," he murmured close to her ear. She laughed and pushed her hair out of her face. Michael looked down at her arm.

"The scars are gone," he observed, grabbing her upper arm. She pulled away.

"Isabel…did something to them." She looked around nervously.

"Oh. Right. Do you want to dance?"

Liz smiled slightly. "You don't dance."

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Just figured…it was the right thing to ask?"

She laughed. "No. The correct thing to ask would be, 'Would you like something to drink?'"

"Yes, I'd love something, thanks."

She laughed and nodded, sort of skipping away. Michael caught up to her, stopping her. "I was kidding."

"I wasn't. I'm thirsty." She downed a plastic cup of punch, then grinned.

Someone sneaked up behind them and grabbed Liz around the middle. Michael saw her tense and was ready to blow them up, when he saw that the someone was Alex. He laughed and released Liz.

"Did I scare you?"

"No. Of course not." Liz grinned.

"Well, since you're here with Michael Guerin aka the non-dancer or something a little catchier, would you care to dance with me, your oldest and bestest friend?"

"Of course I would," Liz said, giggling. "But isn't your band playing tonight?"

"Surely they can be without me for one song. I mean, I'm a vital part of the band, of course, but I think they can survive."

"I see. Then lead on, Mr. Rock Star," Liz said, allowing herself to be led into the crush of people. As if on cue, the rock song stopped and a slower song came on. Alex pulled Liz to him, and she put her head on his shoulder, looking totally comfortable in his arms. Michael suppressed another surge of jealousy, reminding himself that Alex and Liz were just friends. Still, the song couldn't end soon enough for him.

Finally, it did, and Alex returned to the stage, while Liz headed back to him. She grinned, and he tried to wipe any remaining traces of jealousy from his face.

"Okay, guys," Alex said into the mic. "Yesterday, I found someone really important to me, just about when I had given up on ever seeing her again. I know that this isn't exactly the type of song you're used to hearing from us, but I wrote this for her when we were thirteen—try as she might to persuade herself that it's for someone else, and… I don't know. Love you, Liz.

Maybe when the room is empty,  
Maybe when the bottle's full,  
Maybe when the door gets broke down love can break in.  
Maybe when I'm done with thinking,  
Maybe you can think me whole,  
Maybe when I'm done with endings this can begin.  
This can begin, this can begin..."

Michael looked down at her as the now-familiar beginning bars of Alex's song began playing. Liz was flushing prettily and looking down at her shoes. She looked up, grinning, and stuck out her lower lip. "Dance with me?" she asked.

"I don't dance, remember?"

"Please?"

Who could refuse her? He sighed in agreement and allowed her to lead him onto the floor. Liz immediately began moving to the music, while Michael could just sort of sway as he looked around in order to catch anyone laughing at him and turn their eyeballs into jelly. No one did, though, lucky for them. Liz opened her eyes and watched him, still moving. When he caught her looking at him, she giggled.

"What are you looking at?" He demanded.

"You," she said simply, twirling around him. "You really don't dance."

"Shut up." He stopped moving, and headed off of the dance floor.

"Oh come on, you big baby." Liz grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her. "Let me show you." Just then, the song stopped.

"Oh. No music. Looks like you can't. Tough luck."

Liz rolled her eyes. "Stay," she ordered, heading over to the stage. She got Alex's attention just as the band was about to start the next song, and she talked to him for about thirty seconds, gesturing towards Michael. Alex looked over at him, grinned, and nodded, then returned to the band. Immediately, a faster song started up.

"What did you do?" Michael demanded warily.

"Nothing. Okay. I'm going to show you how to dance." Liz stepped in front of him and grabbed his hands, placing them on either of her hips. "Now, just follow me. It's easy." She began rocking out the way she had just been, making Michael choke. She threw him a stern look over her shoulder, and he began following her movements, which she had slowed down a little. "Yes!" Liz cried happily, stepping away and giving a little jump. "You got it!"

He did! His body was actually moving in time to the music! Michael caught Liz's eyes, and she grinned, resuming her motions. It was a good thing he'd caught on when he had—the stimulation of Liz practically gyrating that close to him might have caused an awkward scene, had it gone on much longer.

This song ended quickly, and Liz threw her arms around Michael, laughing. "You're a natural!" she exclaimed. "So what are you going to do now?" She cocked her head and grinned, as if she already knew.

"I'm going to dance with you, of course," he said, pulling her to him. She laughed but said nothing, and they danced for the next few songs.

As much as he would have liked to dance with Liz all night—to watch her, touch her, feel her tight body against his, he was nearly dying with thirst, and knew Liz was too. They went over to the punch, which was now being supervised by the principal (must have been a spiking scare or something), and filled their cups to the brim. Liz downed hers so quickly that some spilled out and down her chin. Michael watched, transfixed, as the red droplet made its way down her neck then continued down the swell of one breast. Liz looked down and giggled, quickly wiping it away and refilling her cup and snatching his away to do the same to it.

"You're going to get dehydrated, dancing like that for so long," she said, thrusting the cup back into his hands and snapping in his face.

"Wha-oh. Thanks."

She looked at him strangely. "You okay? Seemed like you went somewhere else for a minute."

"Yeah. I'm fine." He drank the punch quickly, crushing his cup and belching. Liz groaned.

"Oh, that was attractive," she said, heading back.

"You know it."

Finally, the band began playing the slow songs. Michael saw Liz looking at him hesitantly.

"What?"

"Do you slow dance?" she asked, half-teasing.

"Get over here," he growled, pulling her to him. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Michael slid his arms down around her waist and they moved in time, both with the music and with each other.

"May we cut in?" asked a familiar voice. Michael opened his eyes to see Maria and Max standing there, matching grins on their faces. Liz stepped away and grabbed Maria. Michael stood there awkwardly for a second, before the girls laughed. Liz stepped over to Max, freeing Maria to grab Michael. She began leading—not a surprise. Michael only halfway listened to her—he was trying to catch a glimpse of Liz and Max. Maria tugged on his hair, trying to get his attention.

"Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly, glaring down at her.

"Hey, yourself, SpaceBoy," Maria said, glaring right back at him. "I was talking to you."

"Fine. What? And stop calling me that."

"I said, stop worrying. Neither of them is going to do anything. There's only room in Liz's heart for one alien, and that is you."

"Shut up."

She smiled and shrugged. "Anyway, you two looked awfully cozy just before we cut in."

"So why'd you do it?" He asked, still looking for Liz. Ah. There they were. Liz looked just like she had with Alex. But there were no guarantees—Max had had a crush on her when they were younger. Maria tugged on his hair again.

"Were you listening?"

"You touch my hair again and I'm stepping on your little feet."

"I'm terrified, SpaceBoy."

Michael rolled his eyes. Maria was fine in short periods—he could stand her—but she was nothing compared to Liz.

"All right, all right," she said, settling against him. "I'm done."

After what seemed like forever, the dance came to an end, and the four of them piled into the Jeep. Michael sat in the back seat, with Liz right next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He could tell she was asleep, and was absently running his hand through her hair as he looked out the window.

"So, Alex tells me that you and Liz were dancing pretty close earlier," Isabel teased. "She show you any new moves?"

Michael didn't reply, but Liz stirred. "Fuck you, Isabel," she mumbled sleepily, adjusting her position. Michael and Max laughed, while Isabel huffed and turned around.

When they reached the Evanses', Michael gently shook Liz. She groaned and pushed him away.

"We're here," he said. "You gotta go in and go to bed."

"You just move your ass and I'll sleep here," Liz murmured.

"You're not sleeping in the Jeep," Michael said. "Come on."

Liz voiced her annoyance with him at the moment, but followed him inside. She disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging shortly, wearing her pajamas. She said nothing to Michael as she wrapped herself in the blankets Max had set out before he went into his room, but once she was settled, she smiled up at him.

"I had fun tonight…" she said, trailing off in a yawn. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "No problem. I had fun too."

Liz laughed. "You were pretty damn hot, dancing like that."

"I'm pretty damn hot all the time."

She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Whatever."

"So you agree."

Liz cast a pleading look his way. "I'm tired."

Michael laughed and bent down to kiss her forehead. "Goodnight." He meant to pull back, but something was stopping him. His eyes locked onto Liz's, and they moved together slowly. For the third time since they had been reunited, Michael felt her warm lips pressing against his own. He moved back a little, so she could sit up, which she did, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Finally, they pulled away, and Liz bit her lip and smiled.

"I thought you were tired," Michael teased, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Shut up," she said. He laughed. "Where are you sleeping?" she asked, settling back down into the blankets.

"Max's room. Figured I'd let you have the couch all to yourself."

"You're so generous."

"You're so right."

She rolled her eyes. "Good night, Michael," she said pointedly. He nodded and flipped off the light.

"Good night, Liz."


	18. 18

Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat

Email:

Rating: PG, for a bit of language and violence.

Genre:Drama/Angst

Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Full-blown polar.

Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g

Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.

Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.

The next day, Michael awoke slowly, a strange feeling in his gut. With a quick glance towards Max, he jumped up and headed into the living room, where Liz was curled up on the couch. He stood there for a few moments-making sure she was okay. Once he was fully convinced that no harm had come to her during the night, he breathed a sigh of relief and started to step away. It was early; everyone else was asleep—might as well let her rest for a few more hours. But just as he did, he saw her eyes shoot open, and her entire body tensed. She looked wildly around the room, but stopped when she saw Michael. Liz relaxed a little and sat up.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I was…checking on you," he said, realizing how lame he sounded. "I mean, I thought I heard something."

She nodded. "I did too-but it must have just been you."

"You should go back to sleep-it's still early. You can probably get a few more hours of sleep in before you have to get up."

She shook her head. "Once I'm up, I stay up. What day is it?"

"Monday," Michael said, after glancing at the calendar Max's mother had hung on the wall.

"Then you have school today, you inferior high schooler," she taunted with a grin.

"Not if I play hooky," he said. "Townie."

Liz stood indignantly. "A townie is one who stays in their town after high school. I'd like to point out that I am not technically in my town, and therefore I cannot be deemed a townie." She yawned. "And you're mean."

He snorted.

"But seriously, you should go to school. The more days you miss, the more likely you are to have to stay to get that one last credit, and the less likely you are to be able to spend the summer with me."

"What an incentive," Michael said, crossing his arms.

"That'd best not be sarcasm, boy," she teased, standing up to copy his position. He smirked and pulled her to him.

"Why would it be?" he asked innocently, placing a soft kiss on her lips. He felt her grin against his lips, but then push him away.

"I have no idea." She turned back to the couch, gathering up the blankets. "If you get ready right now, we can go out for breakfast. School starts later on Mondays, right?"

He nodded, and she snapped a sheet at him. "So go!" she exclaimed, laughing. He obeyed, returning to Max's room to pull on a pair of his jeans. Just as he was finishing, the feeling of danger returned to him, and he rushed to finish dressing so he could go back to Liz. She was standing in the middle of the room, looking around, as though searching for a pair of eyes. Michael cleared his throat—didn't want to scare her—and she jumped, spinning around.

"What's wrong?" He asked, approaching her cautiously. She shrugged.

"I…thought I felt someone watching me," she said sheepishly. "But that's crazy."

"Damn straight," Michael said, trying to convince himself as much as her. "Come on."

They went and got breakfast from some fast-food restaurant, taking it to a bench in the park. They ate in silence, with Liz glancing around nervously every few minutes.

"No one's around," Michael said, looking as well, then nudging her in the side with his elbow. "Now cut it out-you're making me just a paranoid as you are."

She beamed at him. "How do you know you haven't made me this paranoid and you're just now noticing it?"

"How would I have made you paranoid?" Michael snorted, crumpling his wrapper and belching. Liz rolled her eyes.

"Nice. Shouldn't you be getting to school now?"

"What's the hurry?" Michael asked, putting an arm around her shoulder. She laughed.

"The faster you get to school, the faster you can get back." She said in a quiet, reasonable voice.

"That's not true," he protested, but she stretched up and kissed him. He sighed deeply, squeezing her shoulder.

"Alright, alright-you've convinced me." The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he looked around suspiciously. "But you have to go right to the Evanses' and lock the doors. Do not leave for anything, and don't let anyone in, no matter what they want."

"I am making you paranoid," Liz snorted, then sobered on his stern look. "Okay. I promise."

"Good girl." He kissed her one last time, then stood and offered his hand. She took it. "Go right home," he warned.

"But may I dawdle and talk to strange wolves?" she teased. He looked at her sharply, and she held out her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll go right home and lock all the doors and windows."

"And not let anyone in," he reminded her.

"No shit, Mother," she said, obviously becoming fed up with him. "I'm not a total moron, you know."

"I know. I'll see you later. Be careful."

She rolled her eyes and headed off in the opposite direction from where he was going. For a moment, he was tempted to follow her, but that would accomplish nothing except make her mad. So, with a sigh, Michael headed off towards school.

After his last class of the day had been released, Michael nearly bolted out of the school and back to Max's house. The same feeling he'd awoken to-of danger-a threat nearby—have been plaguing him all day. He began pounding on the door, and didn't stop until it swung slowly open. Liz ducked to avoid getting punched, and then, upon seeing his face, opened the door wider.

"See, Michael?" she said smugly. "I'm fine."

He stepped inside, looking around the room carefully. "Yeah, except you let me in without looking first."

"I knew it was you," she said. He spun around, possessed by a new feeling for him—fear.

"Did you, Liz? What if you'd been wrong?" He hissed. She shrank away from this new side of him, but managed to hold her ground.

"I knew," she said levelly. He sighed and took her hand, placing gentle kisses on each of her knuckles.

"Sorry. It's—this damn feeling won't go away." Liz nodded knowingly, placing her small hand on his shoulder.

"I know," she said. "I've had it too."

He laced his fingers with his, giving her hand a squeeze. "Sorry."

"You'll be forgiven if we can go for a walk," she said craftily, tugging him towards the door. He resisted her, however, and she looked back at him.

"You shouldn't go out there," he said. "What if—"

"What if ten thousand hairy little elves fell onto Roswell with acid rain? Thinking like that will keep you in the house all your life, Michael Guerin. I've already been inside the whole day. You have three options. Either you come with me and I go, you stay here and I go, or you knock me out and…I guess I'd stay, but I wouldn't be very good company." She looked around the room and picked up a bookend, handing it to him with a smirk. "Your choice."

Michael tossed the heavy chunk of wood from hand to hand for a few moments, weighing it and his options, but then set it down. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "I'm coming."

She nodded triumphantly and resumed pulling him towards the door. "Thought I was going to go crazy, locked in the house all day," she breathed as she opened the door and leapt into the bright sunlight. She threw her head back and spread her arms wide, drinking in the sun."

"Short trip," Michael muttered, watching her. She made a face at him and took off towards the park.

He caught up with her easily and they walked through the late-afternoon sunlight. Well, Michael walked. Liz was nearly skipping. He grabbed her gently from behind and pressed her against a tree. She grinned up at him.

"You act like you were locked inside for decades instead of hours," he said, tilting her chin up to expose her lips. They curled up at the corners, in anticipation.

"It felt like decades," she murmured, twining her hands up around his neck. "I'm a creature of the sun, Mister Guerin-I simply cannot thrive on video games and artificial light."

He grinned and leaned down. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered, and saw her eyes slide closed. He followed suit, but just as their lips were brushing, they were interrupted by a loud crashing in the grass behind them. Michael jerked backwards, and Liz gasped when she caught sight of the intruder.

It was a boy-he looked to be a few years younger than Liz. But his face was completely covered in bruises-and beneath that, it was deathly pale. He stumbled forward, and Liz rushed forward to catch him.

"Alan!" she exclaimed, easing him to the ground. "What happened to you?"

"I'm so sorry, Lizzie," he panted. "So sorry, so sorry…"

Michael knelt next to the two of them, trying to figure out who the boy was.

"Alan, it's okay. What are you doing here? Who did this to you?" She kept her voice low but caring, attempting to calm the boy down.

"Uncle Willie," he gasped, and immediately Michael knew who the boy was.

"She still won't do it," he heard one of Liz's other 'brothers', standing near him, whisper to another.

"Once a sinner, always a sinner," the other muttered back. "Even Uncle Willie can't save her."

He was one of her 'brothers'-he'd just stood there and watched as the disgusting man they'd called 'uncle' tortured her. Michael clenched his fists and felt the familiar red, hot glow start up. Liz glanced over at him, and, with wide eyes, she nudged him away.

"Alan, what are you talking about?" she coaxed, stroking his head. "What do you mean?"

Alan was shaking uncontrollably, and, as the two of them looked on, he visibly broke down. "You were right. The whole time you were with us, you were right. We were insane—he was insane. I'm so sorry, Lizzie," he said, clinging to her like a child would to his mother after a nightmare. "You were right. We put you through so much, and you were right."

"Shhh," Liz whispered, rocking softly. "Tell me what happened."

Alan took a deep, shuddering breath and began speaking. "After you left last week, I started thinking. I mean, I'd been thinking ever since that one night—" He broke off, and Liz nodded. "I thought, how could you be a sinner? Uncle Willie had to be wrong. You were just a little girl. I mean, you were better than I ever was. But I couldn't tell anyone—I'd seen what they'd done to you. I'm a coward, Lizzie, I'm so sorry." He started sobbing into her lap, and she stroked his head soothingly, waiting for him to recompose himself. "But then I really started thinking. Remembering. Things I haven't remembered in a long time. There was another little girl before you, Lizzie. She wouldn't listen either. But one day she disappeared. Mom and Dad said she ran away, and everyone believed them. I knew what really happened. Uncle Willie was trying to make her believe-trying to save her. But she choked on that shit they made you drink. He killed her," he whispered in fearful disbelief. "He killed her and buried her in the backyard."

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but Liz put out her free hand, asking him silently not to say anything. He laced his fingers with hers, and they waited for the trembling mess of a boy to finish his story.

"I started asking the rest of the family if they remembered her, but no one believed me. So I went out into the backyard one night and just started digging. I found her. She was so little, Lizzie—like you were. And he just killed her. I called the police, and by the next day, there were people all over the place. Everyone was asking questions, and at first no one would answer them. But then one of the brothers—remember Dennis?" Liz nodded. "He agreed with me. So all the rest of them finally told the story—what I didn't remember. There was so much, Lizzie. I can't believe I ever went along with that man."

"Don't blame yourself," Liz said soothingly, brushing his hair away from his battered face. "You were just a child."

"But so were you," he insisted. "You were only a little bit older than I was, but you resisted him with all that you had. You beat him."

"Don't think about that," she said quietly. "Who did this to your face?"

"Once the police heard our stories, they wanted to talk to Uncle Willie and Aunt Lucy. But no one could find them. Mom and Dad knew where they were, of course, but they were still standing by them. They wouldn't rat them out." He gulped. "Last night, the two of them showed up at our door. The look on Uncle Willie's face—in his eyes—was just crazy. I knew something bad was going to happen. Mom and Dad let him in, and they called the family down. Then he just went….insane. He killed them. All of them, Lizzie-and I watched. He made me watch. Then he came for me. But he didn't catch me. He's just an old man—I'm much faster. I got away, Lizzie. I had to come warn you. He told me you were next."

Michael felt Liz's grip on his hand tighten at this, and he moved closer.

"What are you talking about?" Michael demanded. He didn't give a rat's ass if the kid was on the verge of a mental breakdown—you don't say something like this and then stop talking.

"He said that Liz was the source of this whole problem. He said that if she had just been a good girl that none of this would have happened. He said that you'd spread your influence on everyone—you were evil and had to be killed."

"How did you know to come here? How does he?"

"My parents knew where you had come from—they knew your whole story. I assume. I only knew because of your nightmares." He sniffled and wiped his face, sitting up.

"My nightmares?" Liz asked, utterly confused.

"From your first few weeks. Remember? You'd wake up crying—I was only in the next room. I could hear you sometimes, talking about some place called Roswell. I remembered it, for some reason. But I had to come warn you. He's not just going to kill you, Lizzie," he said in a low, frightened voice. "He said that's too good for someone as full of the Evil Spirits as you are. He's going to do—I can't." He collapsed back into her lap. "I can't say it, Lizzie, I just can't. It's terrible. You have to disappear. Completely. He'll find you anywhere you go. He knows people. Lizzie, you can't stay here…" He hid his face in her legs, still trembling.

Liz herself looked equally freaked. While she was still holding it together for the sanity of the boy she was holding, her face was pale, making her dark eyes (made darker by fear) stand out. She looked slowly towards Michael, completely at a loss as for what she should do. He shrugged and kissed her hand. She looked down at the boy once more. He'd calmed a little, and was breathing deeply to compose himself further.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said once more. She pulled him to her with her one arm for a hug, then brushed her hand across his forehead.

"It's okay, Alan. Thank you."

He nodded, rising to his feet. "I interrupted you," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I just, I thought I was leaning on a tree trunk, but I wasn't. I fell."

Realization dawned in Liz's eyes, mingled with relief. "You've been watching me all day, haven't you?"

He nodded sheepishly, looking away. "I just wanted to be totally sure it was you. Then I was, but you looked so happy—you were in a place you loved—where you were loved. I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," she said with a smile, reaching up to accept the hand he offered. "Michael, this is the son of my fosterparents. He—"

"I know," Michael broke in sullenly. "So did you fill the bathtub with ice water?" He asked, stepping forward. "Or were you the one who lit the candle so he could burn her?" His voice began to get louder. "Or did you throw her, half-naked, into her fucking bedroom so she could freeze all night? Were you the one who mixed whatever the hell it was that they made her drink? Did you—" He was pulled up to his full height now, above the boy, his voice loud and threatening, with his hand curled into a fist at his side. The boy cowered away from him, and Liz pulled him away.

"Michael, stop it!" she exclaimed, stepping between the two of them, pressing nearly all her weight on Michael to keep him from leaping forward. "What are you doing?"

"He just stood there that night, watching that bastard hurt you!" Michael growled. Liz cringed from him for the second time in less than an hour, but didn't let him go.

"Not Alan, Michael. You don't know. He wasn't like them. It's okay." She stretched upwards and kissed him softly. "It's okay." She pulled away and turned back to Alan, sort of sheepishly. "This is Michael… He's not normally like this."

Alan nodded, looking at him warily. "I—have to go. I can't stay in one place too long. Get out of here, Lizzie. Goodbye…and good luck." He stepped forward to place a hasty kiss on Liz's forehead, then disappeared back into the brush, leaving the two of them as alone as they had been before. Liz turned towards Michael, a faint fire burning in her eyes.

"What'd you do that for?" she demanded. "Couldn't you see how broken he was already? Not only had his entire belief system just fallen around his feet, but the person he looked up to more than anyone else in the world had just murdered his family. His family, Michael!" she yelled. "While he watched! Then you go and threaten him! What is your problem?"

"I didn't see him doing anything to stop his so-called Uncle, Liz!" Michael roared down at her. "Unless he was a hell of a lot different in your life than in your flash, I seriously doubt that he didn't deserve it!"

"Are you yelling at me?" she asked in disbelief. "Why? Because I think it's wrong that you just scared the shit out of a little boy—because that's what he is, Michael. You weren't there at that house. They were all dependent little children. They weren't allowed to know things that I knew! You don't understand!" Liz exclaimed, sinking to the ground. "You can't understand…" she whispered, hiding her face in her hands. Michael knelt next to her again, trying to put an arm around her. She shrugged it off. He sighed, rocking backwards onto his feet.

They stayed like that for a while: Liz just trying to compose herself, Michael remaining nearby. But then, Michael heard a twig crack in the distance, and he remembered the warning Alan had brought. He dragged Liz to her feet, despite her protests.

"Get off of me! Can't you just leave me alone for one minute?" she whimpered, trying to pull away from him.

"If I leave you alone here right now, you could end up dead, or worse," he hissed. "We're going home. Now."

She looked around the trees, obviously just becoming aware of the danger. A slight tremor ran through her body, and Michael took that as consent. He took off running, and Liz kept up easily.

They got back to the Evanses' house and collapsed in the front yard. Silence reigned for a few minutes until their breathing returned to normal, then Liz brought her knees up to her chest. Michael rested his hand gently on her neck, then, when she didn't jerk away, pulled her to him.

"Things are so fucked up right now," Liz murmured tearily. He kissed the top of her head, all the while looking for anyone who might be a threat.

"It'll be fine," he reassured her.

"Not if Alan's right," she said. "It won't be fine until Uncle Willie dies. Or—"

Don't say it," Michael cut her off fiercely. "Don't think it, don't breathe it, don't anything it. That is not going to happen. No one here is going to let that happen." She sniffled in reply, and he rubbed her back. "Let's go inside."

She nodded quietly and allowed him to lead her into the house. Michael sat her on the couch and went to dig through the Evanses' cupboards. Max's mother drank tea-he knew it. He figured a hot cup of something would help calm her nerves. But just as he had found the box, he heard the front door open slowly. Shit. Had he locked it when they came in? Of course not. He dropped the tea and bolted into the living room, his fists already glowing a dangerous red.

"Watch it, Michael," Max said, holding his hands out. "I come in peace."

Michael unclenched his fist and glanced over at Liz, who was watching him in amusement. Max, meanwhile, was just looking on in confusion.

"Long story," Michael explained, running a hand through his hair—a vain attempt to calm himself. Max nodded, setting down his books.

"As I was about to say before being so rudely interrupted," Max said, looking over at Michael. "What's wrong, Liz?"

"Equally long story," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm fine, though," she added, looking up at him with a weary smile.

"Good." Max asked, flopping down into a chair and leafing through a textbook. "Hey, did you guys hear about the murderer?" Michael and Liz shared a Look.

"W-what murderer?" Liz asked warily, tearing her eyes away from Michael.

"It was on the radio this morning-this crazy guy over in Clovis killed an entire family, and the police haven't caught him yet. They heard from an anonymous tipster that he was probably coming this way—" Liz's breath caught in her throat, halting Max's words. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "Where are your parents?" Liz managed shakily.

"Dad has a big case in Fort Sumner," he said, looking at her in concern. "Mom went with him. Why?"

Liz sat up straighter, trying to pull herself together. "No reason," she said, forcing a smile. "So you have homework?"

Max looked down at his text. "Yeah," he said in disgust.

"I remember those days," Liz said, with an air of superiority. "You poor creature."

Max made a face at Liz, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Michael rolled his eyes at the two of them and sat on the couch next to Liz. A few minutes later, the door slowly opened, and Michael leapt to his feet. Liz grabbed his hand before he could blast the intruder, thankfully. Isabel peered around the door, looking at Michael in confusion.

"What'd I do now?" she questioned, holding her hands out as she crept across the living room.

"Michael's just being a little paranoid," Liz said, pulling him back down to the couch. He said nothing, but put an arm around her.

"So did you guys hear about the murderer?" Isabel asked as she wandered towards her room. She returned quickly, having disposed of her backpack. All three of them nodded, and Michael felt Liz lean into him a little bit more. He kissed her neck, taking in her familiar smell.

"Should we leave you two alone?" Isabel asked, watching them with an arched eyebrow. Michael rolled his eyes, and knew without looking that Liz was blushing.

"Better not," Max said, grinning wickedly. "We don't want Liz 'in a family way.'"

Liz groaned in disbelief and hid her face in Michael's shoulder. He flipped Max the bird and grinned, twining his fingers through Liz's long dark hair. "Looks like we'll have to find another place if we want to get anything done tonight," he teased. He felt her sigh—a soft puff of breath through his clothes, and she stood up, mock-glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Before anyone could say anything, the telephone's shrill bells interrupted them. Liz, being the closest, answered it.

"Evans residence, Liz Parker speaking," she said, a soft hint of the tone she'd had to use at the Crashdown entering her voice. Her eyes, which had been sparkling as a result of the teasing from the others, turned serious. "Who's this?" she asked. It was evident from the strain in her voice that it was harder to sound chipper. "I think you have the wrong number," she said, immediately slamming the receiver down. She stood there, trying to shake off whatever she'd just heard, then returned to the couch.

"Who was it?" Max asked, the concern in his eyes almost matching Liz's. She shook her head, forcing a smile.

"Wrong number," she answered, her voice overly-cheerful. "Didn't you hear?"

"You're lying, Liz," Michael mumbled into her hair. She shrugged, the weakly-constructed façade disintegrating. "So who was it?"

He felt her glance at Max and Isabel, then turn more towards him. "I think it was Uncle Willie," she whispered. Michael jerked upright, searching her face.

"Are you sure?" he demanded. She thought for a moment, and nodded, biting her lip.

"Who's Uncle Willie?" Isabel asked.

Michael felt Liz's hesitation to answer, so he replied for her. "He's a jerk who was friends with her fosterparents." He looked up, and saw something flash through Isabel's eyes. She looked at Liz, touching her own shoulder. Liz shook her head, pointing to her mid-upper arm, where Michael had seen the man brand her. The blonde's eyebrows shot up so fast Michael thought they would fly off of her forehead, and Liz looked down. Max was still completely in the dark. He never was the sharpest crayon in the box.

"I don't quite get it…" he said slowly. Liz sighed.

"Max, my foster home was no better than living with my dad," she said, attempting to nudge him in the right direction. It seemed to help, as he nodded his understanding.

"So what does he want with you?" Isabel asked. Michael felt Liz shiver, and she shrugged. He nudged her softly in the side, and she glared at him. He rolled his eyes and answered for her.

"The man is part sadist, part mental patient, part wannabe-cult leader. Liz essentially tore down his entire world, and now he's pissed."

Max's mouth dropped open. "Liz, you were in Clovis," he observed, pointlessly, as he made the connections. "This murderer—he's your Uncle Willie, isn't he?"

Liz nodded, slouching in the couch. Max, however, leapt to his feet.

"We have to call the police!" he exclaimed.

"It won't do any good," Liz said, not meeting his eyes.

"Why not?" Max was staring at her incredulously.

"Because he knows people," she said, repeating Alan's words from earlier. "Important people. The type of people that would have pretty big sway over police stations in little towns.

The hairs on the back of Michael's neck prickled, and he looked towards the picture window, at exactly the same time as Liz. She rose and closed the curtains against the quickly-dimming light, wrapping her arms around herself and not moving. Michael caught her eye and patted the cushion next to him. Slowly she obeyed, hiding her face in his chest. Michael kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer—if that was possible.

"Then what can we do?" Isabel asked.

"Nothing," Liz said slowly, as though an idea were just dawning over her. "But…he's after me, not any of you…" She trailed off, but even this little bit was enough for Michael to figure out what she was thinking.

"You're not going anywhere," he said firmly.

"If I leave, I have a chance of getting away from him. He'll leave you guys alone, because he…wouldn't care."

"Stop it," Max said, staring intensely at her. "Michael's right, you're not going anywhere."

"Who's going to stop me?" she challenged.

"You're forgetting who you're sitting with," Isabel jumped in. "We have more resources than your average people."

"Is that a threat?" Liz asked, equal hints of anger and fear entering her voice.

"That's a statement," Michael told her, tightening his grip on her. "You are not going anywhere."

She sighed indignantly, but didn't protest further. Michael could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning, working out a way to leave them. "You want to leave me again?" Michael accused softly, knowing that this would hit a nerve.

"It's more complicated than that," she quickly replied. "I don't want you to get hurt…any of you."

"You don't think your taking off would hurt?" Michael asked, his voice raising a few decibels. Liz leaned away from him, and he released her. "You're being selfish."

"How is wanting my friends to stay alive being selfish?" Liz demanded. "As long as I'm here, you're all in danger."

"But so are you!" Michael exclaimed, standing up. "And without us, you're in even more danger!"

"That's a bit arrogant, even for you!" Liz accused, also rising. "You've never even met this man—what makes you think that you can do anything to stop him?"

"I can try, can't I?" He questioned, turning to face her—and using his height to his full advantage.

"Not if it kills you!" She yelled, storming away. Before she could get very far, Michael leapt forward and grabbed her wrist. She tried to jerk away, at the same time throwing a punch his way, but he managed to both duck and maintain his grip.

Liz was alone in the dark. Nothing made sense—there was a strange chanting coming from every direction, and yet silence engulfed her. A man grabbed her from behind, yanking her wrist up behind her back and sending waves of pain shooting up her arm. She started to cry out, but he covered her mouth and shoved her against the wall. A hand slid up her shirt and rested on her ribcage for a moment, the roughness of it making her skin crawl. It then resumed its way upwards, and had nearly reached its target, when another child came flying at his back, knocking him into the wall next to her. His bone-crushing grip on her small wrist was released, and Liz immediately darted away, peering through the darkness to find the face of her rescuer. It was just a small child, but he was pummeling the man as fiercely as any prizefighter Liz had ever seen. Then man easily knocked the boy away, sending him sliding a few feet away. He glared at Liz with eyes that were nothing but twin black holes, then stalked towards the chanting. Liz hesitantly extended a hand to the small figure on the floor, who accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you," she said shakily. "Let's get out of here before someone catches us."

Michael immediately dropped Liz's hand, looking away apologetically. He heard her take a deep, composing breath, then looked back at her.

"Who was the man?"

She shrugged, with her face carefully blank.

"The kid was Alan, wasn't it?" Michael said, realizing the cause of the episode in the park.

She nodded slowly, stonily.

"Sorry," Michael said, scratching his eyebrow uncomfortably. Her facial expression gradually softened, and she shrugged.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "You didn't know." She looked up at him.

"Um, hi, remember us?" Isabel asked, looking at them strangely. "What just happened?"

"We just had a flash," Michael said, reaching carefully for Liz's hand and kissing the inside of her wrist before she pulled it away.

"And Michael became a little less of a bonehead," Liz added, eyes flashing mischievously. "But only a little."

He rolled his eyes tolerantly—he definitely deserved that and quite a bit more—and took her hand again. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, fingers stroking the soft skin there. She extracted her hand from his for the second time, shaking her head.

"Don't wor—" she began, but was cut off by an insistent pounding on the door. No one moved for at least a full minute, but still it persisted.

"Lizzie," begged a weak voice, barely audible through the door and over the knocking. "Lizzie, it's just me. Please, let me in—it's dark out here! Lizzie, it's dark!"

Liz stepped toward the door, and Michael kept close on her heels. She slowly opened it, and sure enough, Alan stood there on the porch. His eyes filled with relief when he saw Liz, and he stepped forward. She held the door open, extending her arms for him. Immediately, he fell into them, whimpering about the dark.

"It's okay," she whispered, stroking his head soothingly. "There's nothing out there. And I'm shutting and locking the door. It's not dark in here—see the lights? There are lights all over the place. Shhhh…"

"Lizzie…" he whispered, just before his whole body went limp. Liz staggered backwards a few steps under his limp body, but the other three in the room acted quickly, and within a few seconds, Alan's still form was stretched out on the couch.

"Who's this?" Max asked, studying the boy's face.

"This is Alan," Liz said simply, kneeling next to him.

"Fosterbrother," Michael explained, on Max's look of confusion.

"Why does his face look like that?" Max asked. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Uncle Willie," Liz answered before Michael could, her voice bitter. She reached out to touch his face, but just as her fingers grazed the bruised skin, he moaned slightly and she jerked away, looking at him in pity.

"He was my protector," she said with a laugh. "Isn't that weird? I was fourteen, fifteen—he was ten—eleven. He's why they didn't bother me." She tore her eyes away from the boy's face to look up at Michael. "That man you saw—Alan gave him a black eye and broke his nose."

Michael just nodded. Alan still hadn't done anything when their so-called uncle was hurting her that night. Liz rolled her eyes.

"Michael, give it up, okay? After that night, he didn't let anything else happen."

He stalked away from the couch. Liz remained kneeling, looking thoughtfully at the boy.

"We should leave," she said quietly, to herself. Michael returned to her side.

"You're not going anywhere," he said gruffly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She shrugged him off and kept watching her brother. He moaned again, and Liz carefully shook him. He rolled his eyes and stepped away from her. She obviously didn't want to be touched.

"Alan," she whispered. "Alan, you're okay. Wake up."

To Michael's surprise, Alan's eyes slid open, and he shot straight up with a frightened gasp.

"I came to warn you," he said quickly. Liz nodded, running her fingers through his hair.

"You did that already, in the park. It's okay."

He knocked her hand away, standing up unsteadily. "No," he said, unsure, then more forcefully: "No!"

"No what?" Liz asked, standing up as well.

"No, I still need to warn you. He's coming," he said. "He's here."

Liz stepped backwards with a little gasp, and Michael involuntarily stepped to her side. "What do you mean?"

"I saw him today, right after I left you two. He's here." He began pacing. "There's no way to get away."

Liz chuckled nervously, obviously on the brink of going into hysterics. "He's here? In Roswell?" Michael put an arm around her, but she stepped away, ignoring him. "We need to leave. We can still get out. There has to be a way. We can leave, Alan. He won't find us."

Alan shook his head. "He's here."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Liz asked helplessly, sitting on the couch and hiding her face. Alan caught Michael's eyes, but Michael glared him down, sitting on the couch. This time, Liz let him put his arm around her, and she hid her face in his chest.

"There's no way out," Alan said resignedly. "He's here, he knows where you are, and…he's coming."

Michael gently rubbed Liz's back, feeling the tremors running through her every muscle. "You're going to be okay," he whispered into her ear. "The five of us can beat one guy."

"There's four of you," Alan corrected nervously. "I can't stay. When I die, I want it to be on the run, not sitting here like a caged animal."

"Then I should come with you," Liz said, looking up. Alan shook his head, kneeling in front of her.

"You can't. I don't want to…have to watch. And I don't want you to see me." He took her hands in his. "You're my sister, my best friend. And this is goodbye." He kissed her hand, then released both of them, standing up. She watched him resignedly as he headed out the door.

He'd barely made it out of sight before a terrible scream rose up, which choked off brutally. Liz leapt to her feet and ran to the door, but Max tackled her just in time, throwing her to the floor.

"Shut it!" he growled, trying to pin the thrashing, sobbing girl to the floor long enough for someone to get the door. Isabel slammed the door shut and locked both locks, before sealing it with her powers.

"Let me up!" Liz was screaming pitifully. "Alan—I have to get Alan!"

Max held both of her arms tightly to the floor. "Listen to me!" he said with a vicious bite to his voice that Michael had never heard before. "Listen! That man just killed Alan. You can't save him. The only thing you can do now is save yourself. That means staying here." Liz continued trying to get free of him, so he slammed her to the ground with some force, to try to bring her back into herself. "Alan is dead!" He yelled, trying to get her to listen. "Your brother is dead! Would he want you to go out there and get killed?"

"Get off me," Liz said levelly, though strain and tears were still evident in her voice.

"If I do, are you going to go outside?" he said calmly, not moving. She glared at him for a few moments, then shook her head slightly. "Okay then." He stood, offering a hand to help Liz up, but she refused it, stepping away from all of them.

Isabel, who had been looking out the front window from behind the curtains, stumbled backwards.

"What is it?" Michael asked, though he knew the answer.

"I don't know for sure, but I'm betting that's the guy who's after Liz," she said, panic entering her voice.

Michael saw Liz's knees go weak, and she swallowed heavily, looking around the room.

"Okay," Max said thickly. "Here's what we're going to do. Isabel and I are going to go and seal all the doors and windows. You two are going to go into the basement and find somewhere to hide. Michael, you seal the door on the way down. Everyone just stood there for a second. "Move!" Max barked, and Michael and Liz took off running.

They ran down the basement stairs, Michael sealing the door with his powers before he followed Liz into the dark. She'd found a place behind a ton of boxes, and Michael joined her, sitting on the chilly tile floor. She looked up at him, face dark with fear.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears springing into her eyes. Michael scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Sorry for…everything," she whispered, trembling. "Sorry for leaving you the first time, then again in your trailer, for not telling you all this stuff, for bringing this guy to Roswell…for that first night in the park…" She trailed off as quiet sobs overtook her.

"Stop it," Michael ordered, holding her away. "You can apologize for whatever you want—just not for that night, okay? Don't ever apologize for me having met you like that. Never." He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. "Never."

Liz ignored this, looking away, and went on with her rambling. "I'm sorry about today—how I've acted. God, my last day, and I've spent it arguing with you." She hid her face and continued crying. Michael pulled her hands away from her face and eased her backwards, so she was laying on the floor in their cramped hiding space, then stretched out over her.

"This is not your last day," he said seriously. "I am not letting that happen. So just—" He had to swallow, then begin again. "So just stop it. Stop apologizing, stop crying, stop worrying. You can do all of that tomorrow morning." She began to protest, but he silenced her with a look. "Don't speak, either." He leaned down and caught her mouth with his before she could speak again. She shivered, and then he felt her arms go up around his neck. He nipped her lower lip, seeking entrance, which she granted, sending chills up his spine. Heart pounding, he brought a hand up and brushed it against her neck, where he could feel her pulse beating just as fast as—if not more than—his. He broke their kiss, placing many light kisses along her jaw line and down her neck. She guided him back up, to lock her teary eyes on his.

"Thank you, then. For being in my life. For letting me be in yours. For being yourself…"

"What's with the lists?" Michael tried to joke. Liz just bit her lip, still gazing at him.

"I love you, Michael," she whispered, her voice cracking as she broke into more tears. "I love you…"

"Shhhh, stop that," he mumbled, wishing he could stem the flow. "Stop with the waterworks, you're going to be fine." He sat up, pulling her with him, and their arms locked tightly around each other. He reached up to pull her hair away from her face and gently kissed her earlobe. Before she could answer, they heard a loud crash from the living room.

"He broke down the door," Liz said quietly, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. "He's coming." She trembled, very close to descending into hysteria once more. Michael shook her lightly.

"Be calm," he reminded her. "Do you want him to see that you've been crying? Don't give him the pleasure." He reached up and wiped a tear away with his sleeve. "And if we're quiet, maybe he won't find us."

She nodded silently, still watching the floor in horror. As they listened, the heavy footsteps grew closer to the door to the stairs, and Michael heard Liz hold her breath. The man jiggled the doorknob, then seemed to stalk away. Liz released the breath in a soft puff, just as the footsteps returned quickly, and the door was kicked violently open. It slid down the stairs, and the man, looking exactly as he had in Liz's dream, appeared. Michael laced his fingers with Liz's, trying to keep her calm. Granted, his own palm was beginning to glow the usual, angry red, but at least the man couldn't hear that.

"Oh, Liz," the man called in a singsong voice. "Your Uncle Willie's here. Your momma and papa miss you—they said they want you to come home a little early. The car's waiting outside. Alan's waiting for you in the front seat…"

Michael clapped a hand over Liz's mouth before she could do anything.

The man continued talking while he stalked around the basement. "Come on, honey. I know you're afraid, but I forgive you."

Liz clenched her eyes shut, quietly letting loose another puff of breath. The man seemed to hear this, turning in their direction.

"Come on. Let's go home," he said, approaching the boxes. He was silent for a few moments, then knocked them aside with a growl. Liz yelped in fear, as the man towered menacingly above them. "Or not." He reached down and grabbed Liz's elbow, yanking her away from Michael. "Little bitch," he muttered, pushing her backwards. "Cost me everything. My followers, my family, my life." He slapped her, the sound echoing through the basement and adding to the furious throb in Michael's hand. "I'm going to prison because of you!" He stepped backwards, a crazy light gleaming in his eyes. "But that's only if they catch me. There are no witnesses. Not a soul in the world who has anything but good things to say about me. Anymore. Sure, those boys told the cops about me, but I took care of that. No problems. See, now all I have to do is get rid of you and I'll be fine. Just fine."

Liz tried to take a step away, but Uncle Willie caught her first. He flung her to the ground, where her head connected solidly with the stone floor. She lie still for the longest time—Michael was afraid that the man had actually killed her—but then she whimpered and tried to sit up. The man slammed her back down, sitting on her legs.

"I'm going to make you pay, you sniveling piece of shit," Uncle Willie growled, digging in his pockets. "You don't cross me and get away with it. But just killing you would go too fast. Found that out the hard way last night—I'm sure you've heard by now. And anyway, there are a few things I need to do first." He dumped the contents of his pockets onto the floor—it was a wide array of various metal objects.

Unable to stand it anymore, Michael roared and let loose a blast that, had it hit the man, would have turned him to ashes immediately. But he'd spun around, ducking at just the right moment. He looked from Michael to Liz in disbelief, then nodded.

"I get it," he said, taking slow steps towards Michael. "The little bitch is with a freak. Makes sense, if you think about it." Michael was trying frantically to build up more power, but it seemed that he'd used every ounce of it he had. Uncle Willie leapt at him, using the element of surprise to his advantage. Michael was still for a moment, stunned by the force of his head hitting the floor. But a moment was all the man needed—by the time Michael had regained the ability to move again, Uncle Willie had his hands and feet tied firmly together, so that Michael was sitting facing Liz.

A noise on the stairs caught Michael's attention, and he looked without moving his head. Max and Isabel were crouched there, eyes wide. He tried to tell them not to do anything yet—they had to catch this psycho by surprise.

"This really isn't something for a boyfriend to watch, but…c'est la vie," he shrugged, kneeling on the opposite side of Liz. "I guess now I can explain this to you both." He looked up at Michael. "I don't know how much of our story little Lizzie has told you, but she's under the control of many evil spirits. I've tried to cleanse her, but she's just too filthy." He looked regretfully at her. "Too bad—I know quite a few men that she would have made very happy." He shrugged, choosing something from the floor. "So because she's so disgusting, she can't live. I'm sure you would agree," he said, looking at Michael. He didn't answer—he was too busy concentrating on the familiar throb of powers that was growing—albeit slowly—in the palm of his hand. "But if I'm not careful, I could end up releasing the spirits into the air, to infect some innocent child." He rolled up Liz's sleeve. "There are a series of symbols, however, that make it so no spirit can leave a body once it dies. This way, the spirits that are infesting this filthy body, as well as the disgusting soul, rot along with her body." He looked down, as he began carving into the tender flesh of Liz's upper arm.

"Don't watch!" Liz whimpered. "Michael, don't watch this. Please, please… Close your eyes. I know what you're thinking, Michael, but it doesn't hurt—"

"Then I must be doing it wrong," the man said in a low voice, doing something with the blade. Immediately, Liz had to fight to suppress a scream. Michael had never felt so helpless, and his rage added to the power burning in his palm. He tried sending small amounts of it to his restraints. Surprisingly enough, it worked, and they fell into his lap. He caught Max's eyes, letting him know that he planned an attack soon.

"Michael, close your eyes," Liz continued to beg.

Uncle Willie, having finished with his current blade, wiped it on the leg of Liz's jeans and looked over at Michael. "What do you think so far?" he asked.

"I think you're a bastard," Michael spat. "You don't even deserve to die. That's too quick for you."

The man laughed in pleasure. "You might have a keeper here, Lizzie. Too bad you're disgusting." He began searching for something, and Michael looked up at Max. iNow/i, his eyes said, and all three of them leapt out, directing large amounts of power towards the man. His eyes went wide before his body slumped down, falling face first into the small pile of sharp objects he'd been planning on using. Michael was at Liz's side in an instant, lifting her off of the ground and as far away from the man as he could get her. She wrapped both arms tightly around him, shaking uncontrollably.

"Did we kill him?" Michael asked, looking over Liz's shoulder while keeping her gripped tightly to him. Max shook his head, kneeling next to the man.

"No. I made sure we didn't. We don't need a dead body around here, on top of everything else. He'll wake up in a few minutes, with a killer headache." He stood up, kicking the man in the side.

"A few minutes?" Liz said fearfully. "Then we have to get out of here."

"No, it's okay," Isabel said soothingly. "The police are—"

"The police are in his back pocket!" Liz exclaimed angrily. "They're just going to let him go! If they even get here!"

Max stooped and pulled a notebook out of the man's front pocket, flipping through it. "This looks like a list of the people he's paid off or something—there're a bunch of receipts here." His eyes scanned the list, taking it all in, as he went to stand by Liz. He snorted. "Looks like the last person he had 'in his back pocket' here in Roswell…died a while back."

"What are you talking about?" Liz asked, peering cautiously over the top of the book. He turned it around to show her.

"Right here. It's okay, Liz. This is over."

She shook her head in disbelief, keeping her eyes now on the unconscious man behind them. Just as Isabel had said, soon the red and blue lights of a police cruiser illuminated the ground outside the basement window, and Isabel darted up the stairs to get them.

Then Isabel returned, followed by Sheriff Valenti and several other officers that Michael had never seen before. As they were examining the body, the man gave a long, low moan and turned over onto his back. Valenti yanked him to his feet, as one of the other officers put handcuffs on him. Then Valenti handed him off to the men, approaching the teenagers.

"I'm going to need a report on this," he said in his low, gravelly voice. His mirrored sunglasses revealed nothing as he apparently took in the sight of the four shaken people standing before him. He removed his glasses and shook his head, looking at the ground. "But I suppose that can wait until morning. Evans, where're your parents?"

"Fort Sumner, sir," Max said, gulping.

"You'll want to get a hold of them as quickly as possible—I think I'll want to talk to them as well." His eyes traveled over Michael and the girl hiding her face in his chest.

"Young lady, I…" he began. Liz turned her head toward him when she realized he was talking to her, and he paused, taken aback. "Miss Parker. Nice to see you." He cleared his throat, becoming professional once more. "I'll want to talk to you most of all." No one said anything for a few more moments, then the Sheriff cleared his throat and replaced his sunglasses. "Have a nice night," he said, before trekking back up the stairs.

The moment he was gone, Liz's knees gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, but Michael scooped her up into his arms. "Can you heal her, Maxwell?" Michael asked, heading up the stairs and away from the dark dampness of the basement.

"Yeah, of course," Max said, following them. "Stupid question."

Michael sat on the couch, spreading Liz out in his lap, and Max knelt next to her, healing first the crude sketches cut into her arm, then placing his hands on either side of Liz's head and healing whatever damage being thrown to the floor had caused. Liz sat up, still shaking, and Michael reached behind the two of them for the afghan that was hanging on the back of the couch. He wrapped it around her thin, trembling shoulders and pushed her head lightly onto his chest. Liz gave a squeaky yawn—surprising, considering all she'd been through that night.

"You should sleep," Max said, rocking back on his heels.

"I couldn't," she said quietly, though her eyelids were drooping. "The nightmares…"

"What if I were with you?" Michael mumbled into the top of her head. She shrugged.

"You two can have my bed," Max said. "As long as you promise not to do anything gross." Michael rolled his eyes, and Max grinned.

Soon, they were curled up in Max's bed, Liz facing Michael. She nestled closer, and Michael put his arms around her.

"What I said earlier," Liz murmured. "In the basement…"

"Shh," Michael whispered. "Go to sleep."

"That wasn't just hysteria talking." She shifted. "And I know I must be more like this annoying little girl that you have to protect or something, but I meant it. I love you." Michael said nothing, and Liz sighed. "Good night."

"I love you too, Liz," Michael said after a while, stroking her hair. "I've known it since you left." Liz gave a little hiccup, and Michael smirked, kissing the top of her head. "I thought you knew it too." She shrugged, and Michael reached down to take her hand. "Good night."

Michael hadn't expected that he'd be able to sleep at all that night, give what he'd seen and how much there was to digest, but somehow, he did. Maybe it was knowing that Liz was safe—right there with him, or maybe it was the physical strain of using so much power, but Michael was out like a light. He slept soundly for a while, but awakened a few hours later, to Liz pushing him away and rolling over onto her back with a soft cry.

"Liz," he whispered, trying to shake her awake. She pushed his hand away, but he quickly replaced it on her shoulder, shaking her again. She knocked his hand violently away, then shot straight up, breathing heavily. Michael, seeing that she was physically okay, lay on his back, watching her. She composed herself, then shook her head vigorously. "It was a nightmare," he said, studying her. She rubbed her eyes and nodded, relaxing into the pillow as she turned onto her side. He moved closer, also on his side, and slid his arm around her waist. "You're safe now—forever."

She nodded and put her hand over his, before her breathing evened out once more, becoming deep and steady. Michael kissed the top of her head, leaving his nose buried in the dark silky strands.

His mind flickered back to the first night—funny how he now thought of that as his first night, as though his life had not begun until he met Liz. He'd been thinking about something like this that night—Max and his family had been out of town, and he'd offered to leave his window open. But Michael knew that staying in Max's deserted room would just remind him that he had no home. Funny how that worked out. Here he was, so many years later, sleeping in Max's room, but he felt nothing of the sort. Instead, he knew that he did have a home. It wasn't a trailer, or… a house. As strange as it sounded, it was this small but strong brunette. If anyone had told him when he was thirteen that he'd fall for the quiet, overly-studious little teacher's pet, he probably would have decked them. But he had. He'd been in love with her ever since that night—when her dark eyes had burned into his and he realized that his opinion about her had been wrong.

That things were not always as they seemed.

-Fin


End file.
